


One Royal Holiday

by MostGeckcellent



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo, One Royal Holiday (2020)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Christmas Fluff, Is it too early to be posting Christmas fic?, Maybe - Freeform, Multi, in which I write a fic inspired by Tveit's new Christmas movie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-20
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:28:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27644822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MostGeckcellent/pseuds/MostGeckcellent
Summary: When Prince Enjolras of Galwick is stranded in small-town Connecticut with his best friend and mother right before Christmas, he finds himself taken in by a friendly local and his family. Will he get home in time? Will his bill fail in his absence? Will he live up to his father's shadow? Will he finally eat a Christmas Donut?
Relationships: Combeferre/Grantaire (Les Misérables), Courfeyrac/Enjolras (Les Misérables), Ed/Diane/Gabriella (One Royal Holiday)
Comments: 14
Kudos: 8





	1. December 20th

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is already completed. I'm going to post every week on Fridays (as long as I don't forget??) so it'll be posted in time for Christmas.  
> This was supposed to be a one-shot, I swear.

“One eggnog latte, please, extra whip, and a Christmas cruller.” Courfeyrac was standing at the counter of a cafe, on his way home to his favourite time of the year - there was nothing quite like Christmas in Kentsbury, Connecticut, as far as he was concerned. He’d moved to the big city some time ago, to attend university, and stayed when he’d been offered a teaching position at a local elementary school. He liked the city, of course - loved it, even - but he loved going home all the same. 

“They’re two for one,” the barista said, about the crullers. 

“I don’t need two myself..” Courfeyrac looked around the cafe. There was only one other person there, a gorgeous man in an impeccable suit. He took half a moment to check out Blondie’s ass, before asking, “You want the extra?”

“I beg your pardon?” Blondie looked up, startled at being addressed. He had an accent Courfeyrac couldn’t quite place. It suited him. Courfeyrac gestured to the donuts. 

“Christmas cruller, they’re two for one. I don’t need the second one,” he explained. “I’m driving by myself, no one to share with.” 

“I’m quite alright,” the other man replied stiffly. “And I needn’t accept food from strangers.” 

“Well, in that case..” Courfeyrac paid, and accepted both crullers, in separate bags. He marched right up to the man. “My name is Alex Courfeyrac, my friends just call me Courfeyrac.” He reached out to shake Blondie’s hand. 

The man looked even more taken aback, if that were possible. “...Julien,” he replied, shaking Courfeyrac’s hand after a moment of tense hesitation. 

“A pleasure to meet you, Julien.” Courfeyrac pressed the bag in Julien’s hands. “And now we’re not strangers, so you can accept the donut!” He winked. 

Just then, two more people walked in. “Julien, who is this?” An older woman asked. 

“Mother,” Julien greeted with a grimace. “This is.. Courfeyrac, was it?”

Courfeyrac nodded. 

“And what’s that? Have you got a  _ donut _ ?” The woman looked delighted by the fact. Julien looked pained. 

“I have not. It was.. Free.” 

The woman grabbed the donut from him, and took a bite. “Oh! It’s just like a Galwickian yule cake! See, with the pastry, and the custard -”

“I’m sure it’s not,” Julien seemed almost offended at the insinuation, wrinkling his nose. 

“Well, it’s lovely. And it’s lovely to meet you, my dear,” she addressed Courfeyrac. “I’m Gabriella.” She stuck out a hand.

“Lovely to meet you too, Gabriella.” Courfeyrac smiled, putting all his best charm into it, and shook her hand. 

The third person had been on his phone the whole time, and he finally looked up. “Bad news, I’m afraid,” he sounded stressed. “There’s a storm moving in. Flights are grounded.” 

“Oh, yeah, I heard about that,” Courfeyrac frowned. “Must be coming in faster than expected, but that’s winter in Connecticut for you.” He’d left early in the morning just to avoid the storm - he hoped he hadn’t sacrificed his sleep-in for nothing. 

“Well - can you call the hotel? We’ll have to turn around and see if we can get another night there,” Julien suggested. 

“I tried that. But I’m afraid it won’t be possible.” He pushed his glasses up on his nose. “I’m looking for a new place for you to stay. And that’s the other bad news - the rest of the detail got on a previous flight. They’re on their way back to Galwick now.” 

Galwick, that must be where these people were from. “You’re looking for a place to stay?” Courfeyrac could help with this, at least. 

“It would seem so,” Gabriella said. 

“Well… I know a place,” he suggested. “I’m on my way now. My dad owns an inn in Kentsbury, it’s less than an hour away. It’s a lovely place.” He pulled up some photos on his phone to show them. 

As they were deliberating, a final man walked in. “Hey, have you chosen a place yet?” he asked. 

“No,” Julien started, but his mother interrupted. 

“I do believe we have. The Kentsbury Inn,” she showed the man the image. 

“Oh, I know that place, it’s real nice,” he agreed, and then he frowned. “And it’s way too far for me to take you today, especially with a storm coming. I have a family to get home to tonight. We’re decorating the tree.” 

“You can’t just leave us stranded here!” Julien protested. 

“Well.. you could ride with me,” Courfeyrac offered. “If you want? 

“We aren’t going to just get into a stranger’s car,” Julien frowned, and Courfeyrac frowned back. 

“Alright, then,” he shrugged. “Well… good luck.” If they didn’t want his help, well, he’d tried, hadn’t he?

  
  


Behind him, there was a whispered conversation, and Courfeyrac stopped when he felt a hand on his elbow. “Wait. I’m - I apologize. We would be very grateful for your help.” 

It was Julien, and he did look sorry. Courfeyrac looked at him for a moment, and then nodded, smile brightening again. 

“Well! Off we go then, hm? We’d better beat that storm.” 

  
  
  


There were Christmas songs playing on the radio the whole way there. Courfeyrac managed a rousing duet with Gabriella to Jingle Bell Rock. She’d seemed unfamiliar with the song, which baffled Courfeyrac thoroughly - how did anyone get through life without knowing every word of Jingle Bell Rock? Unless, of course, one didn’t celebrate Christmas, because of course he knew not everyone did, but it was clear that these people did, in fact, celebrate Christmas. Still, the words were easy enough, and Gabriella could carry a wonderful tune. Their sing-a-long had the added bonus of irritating Julien, which Courfeyrac had to admit he enjoyed just a little more than he ought to. 

As for Julien, he seemed unnerved, jumping at every bump in the road. 

“We’re going awfully fast,” he remarked, gripping his seat with white knuckles. 

“I’m going the speed limit,” Courfeyrac pointed out. “And we’ve got to beat the storm, or we’ll be sleeping in this car tonight, and for the next few nights, I’d imagine.” 

“Well - it seems fast.” He jumped half a foot as they drove over a pothole. 

“Sounds like a control issue,” Courfeyrac teased. 

“More like a wanting-to-get-there-in-one-piece issue,” Julien grumbled, clutching the seat even tighter. 

“Relax,” Courfeyrac laughed, but he did slow down a little. “Jeez, it’s like you’ve never driven in the front seat of a car before.” 

Courfeyrac missed the bemused glance between Gabriella and The Man Who Was Always On His Phone.

“I am truly sorry,” Gabriella whispered from the back seat, just loud enough for Julien to hear. Courfeyrac laughed, and Julien just shook his head and stared resolutely out the window. 

  
  


They arrived at the Kentsbury Inn not too much later. Courfeyrac’s father immediately appeared through the door, just as Courfeyrac pulled up to park, and greeted Courfeyrac with a strong hug. 

“Welcome home, son,” he patted him on the back. “And you brought company!”

“Yeah! Dad, this is Julien, Gabriella, and.. Actually, I’m sorry, I haven’t caught the other one’s name.” The third member of their party was behind the car, presumably getting their things from the trunk. 

“Combeferre,” Julien filled in the gap. 

“Combeferre,” Courfeyrac repeated. “Well! I’ll get everyone’s things inside and be right back.” He pulled the first pair of suitcases behind him, leaving his father alone with his new friends. 

When they were alone, and Ed Courfeyrac was about to reach out to shake Gabriella’s hand, Combeferre returned from behind the car, and cleared his throat, preventing them from touching. “Introducing His Royal Highness Prince Julien Enjolras of Galwick, and Her Royal Majesty Queen Gabriella Enjolras of Galwick.” 

Courfeyrac’s father was gobsmacked, jaw hanging open. He collected himself (though not very well), and made an awkward bow, unsure of what to do. “Well - ah - wow, I didn’t know we were expecting royalty.” He looked like he was panicking. 

“Thank you very much for having us,” Gabriella smiled kindly, unfazed. 

“The pleasure is all mine, your, uh. Your highness.” He made another awkward half-bow, half-curtsy. Julien made a face, but Gabriella was still smiling, charmed. 

“Gabriella is fine, we don’t want to cause a stir.” 

Julien interrupted their flirting to say, “Yes, we would appreciate it if you helped us keep a low profile during our visit.” 

“As long as you’re here, your secret is safe with me,” Ed promised. 

At that moment, Courfeyrac appeared from nearby. “What secret?”

“Well, er -” Enjolras looked almost sheepish, though it was obvious he didn’t have much experience with the emotion. To save himself from saying anything, he gestured at Combeferre. 

“Introducing,” Combeferre paused to fix his glasses on his nose, looking pointedly at the prince, “His Royal Highness Prince Julien Enjolras of Galwick, and her Royal Majesty Queen Gabriella Enjolras of Galwick.” 

Courfeyrac dropped the candy cane he had been holding in the snow, and gaped at them. “You’re - what? No. What?”

“I assure you, they are.” Combeferre had a twinkle in his eye, like this was all ever so amusing. 

“Yeah, no, I got that, just like, processing,” Courfeyrac assured him. “Shit, should I have been bowing or - man, what even is this day?”

“We don’t want any trouble,” Gabriella was quick to assure them both. “We just need a place to wait out the storm,” she addressed Courfeyrac’s father, “And your lovely son here was kind enough to suggest your inn.” 

“Why didn’t you say anything? Not when we met, not during the  _ entire ride here, _ ” Courfeyrac asked Julien - Prince Julien Enjolras, apparently - incredulously. 

“Well, I - enjoyed not being recognized, to be perfectly honest.” Enjolras stuffed his hands in his pockets. It was very un-prince-like. 

“Right, well -” Ed Courfeyrac swallowed, and nodded. “Well, I’m not sure we have anything fit for royalty, but we do have rooms. Alex, will you grab the rest of their things?”

“Oh, there’s really quite a lot, perhaps a bellman?” Enjolras suggested.

“We ah - we don’t have one of those,” Courfeyrac was still trying to process all of this. No wonder Julien - Prince Julien Enjolras of Galwick, fuck - hadn’t been used to driving in the front seat. He must be chauffeured everywhere, usually. God, he’d given a prince a donut? A very good donut, mind you, but - no, Courfeyrac really couldn’t think too hard about this. “It’s alright, I can take them,” he assured his royal visitors. 

And so it was that Courfeyrac stumbled through the front door, laden down with bags and cases. Combeferre helped, at least. “And who’re you, then? You introduce  _ them _ , but never yourself.”

“Ah, apologies. I am Adrien Combeferre - Prince Enjolras’ personal aide,” he explained. 

Courfeyrac nodded. “Prince Enjolras - does he usually go by last names, then?”

“Usually,” Combeferre agreed. “I can only assume he used his first for anonymity, for some reason.” 

Courfeyrac shuffled under Combeferre’s piercing gaze. He felt like he was being measured up, though for what, he couldn’t begin to imagine. Whatever Combeferre saw must have satisfied him at least a little, though, because the gaze subsided. Perhaps that was because they now had to clamber up the stairs, though, with their many bags. 

“What’s in this one, an anvil?” Courfeyrac grumbled under his breath, lugging up a particularly heavy bag. 

“Oh, it’s just the royal jewels.” 

The unexpected answer made Courfeyrac jump, and nearly drop them. He hadn’t even realized Queen Gabriella was standing so close by. “What?!?” He stared at the suitcase in his hands. Christ, what was he getting himself into? 

Gabriella laughed at the expression on Courfeyrac’s face. “I’m only joking. It’s shoes.” There was a twinkle in her eye, and Courfeyrac decided then and there that he liked her, quite a lot, actually. Queen Gabriella was his sort of person. 

He laughed too, in relief and also because it had been quite a funny trick. “Shoes. Right. Well, I’ll just -” 

“Let me.” Prince Julien Enjolras appeared at his elbow, and took the suitcase. Courfeyrac graciously pretended not to notice when Enjolras’ eyes widened and his knees buckled a little at the weight of the bag. 

“Oh - well, if you insist.” He could use the help, quite frankly. Usually, people had to carry their own damn bags. 

Enjolras made a point of hiding his struggle. He’d clearly never carried his own bags in his life, but he was determined to help, and somehow that made it more endearing than irritating. Courfeyrac hid his smile (and the occasional laugh) behind a hand, or a bag, whenever Enjolras looked his way, not wanting to discourage him. Eventually, all the bags were up. 

“Right!” Ed Courfeyrac appeared nearby to clap his hands and announce, “We’ll leave you to get settled. Dinner is at 6, just swing by the front desk if you need anything.” 

“Could we see a room service menu, instead?” Enjolras requested. “We’ve quite a lot of work to do.” 

“Room service..?” Ed looked to his son, hoping for some help. He could bring the meals up, he supposed, but there wasn’t really a menu. And he was busy - there was the whole Christmas Festival to prepare for. 

“We don’t have room service,” Courfeyrac said firmly. “We’re serving a wonderful dinner tonight, in the main hall. If you’re unable to make it, I can bring you some leftovers.” They may be royalty, he decided, but this was his father’s inn, and Ed was worked to the bone already. They could settle for what was being offered. 

“But-” 

Enjolras was cut off by his saint of a mother. “We don’t want to make any extra trouble,” she said sweetly. “We shall see you both for dinner at six.” 

“Mother,” Enjolras started, but Gabriella ignored him. 

“Thank you both very much for your help.” She smiled, and Ed smiled back, looking thoroughly lost (and blushing just a very little bit), as the door closed between the royals and the Courfeyrac family. 

“Well then.” Ed clapped his hands on his thighs, and headed back down the stairs. Courfeyrac followed. “Diane is here already, she’ll be so happy to see you,” he told Courfeyrac, who lit up. 

“Oh! Well, I have to say hello.” Diane was the caterer for the inn, and Ed’s best friend. Courfeyrac knew his father would never admit it, but he also had the biggest, most adorable crush on her, and while Courfeyrac would never push, every year he hoped this would be the year they finally just got on with it. He loved a good romance, and he loved Diane. 

Sure enough, she was working away in the kitchen. When she saw Courfeyrac, she scooped him into a big hug. “Oh! My dear, I’m so glad you’re back.”

“Ah, I’ve missed you, Diane,” Courfeyrac grinned at her, hugging back with all his might. “And your wonderful, wonderful cooking, it smells delightful in here!”

“Young man, you flatter me,” she waved a wooden spoon at him. “Well, it’s not a Kentsbury Christmas without you. I’m glad you’re home.” 

“Me too.” He finally let go of the hug, and Diane returned to her pots. 

“There’s one more thing,” Ed piped up, looking sheepish. 

“Oh, is there?” Diane asked. 

“There’s three more for dinner tonight,” he informed her. 

“Well, you know I always make extras in case of last minute bookings,” she assured him. “That doesn't usually have you in such a tizzy.” She straightened up to look at Ed properly. “What is it about these guests, then?”

“Well…” Ed didn’t quite meet her gaze. “Well, they’re royalty, apparently. From Galwick.”

“Oh, my goodness.” Diane’s spoon clattered to the floor. “Royalty? But - but all I’ve made is chilli and garlic bread and - and the salad is so simple, I’ll have to start all over - but there’s no time -” 

“Diane,” Courfeyrac interrupted, taking her hands in his gently. “Diane, it’s okay. Breathe.” 

“Yes,” Ed agreed. “And - and anyway, your cooking is more than fit for royalty. They’ll love it, you’re the best chef I’ve ever met, and nothing beats your chilli anyway.” He was blushing a little, but he looked like he meant it, and Diane melted. 

Courfeyrac smiled to himself and stepped back, letting his father take over. 

“Do you really think so?” Diane asked, still fretful but no longer panicking. 

“I know so,” Ed insisted. “It’ll be perfect.” He picked up her dropped spoon and put it in the sink, and then gathered her into another hug. 

“But it’s so - plain,” she frowned. 

“Your chilli has won the prize at the fair every year since you started cooking, my dear,” Ed reminded her. 

“I suppose - but should I make something more grand? Oh..” 

Courfeyrac saw that she was in good hands with his father, and stepped out of the kitchen. Ed would reassure her, the chilli would be perfect, and if any of the royals had anything to say about it, Courfeyrac would see to them personally. Somehow, he didn’t think they would. Well, Enjolras might, but he would have to get over himself. 

Courfeyrac headed towards the front lobby of the inn. He was going to keep an eye on the front while his father was otherwise engaged. When he got there, Enjolras was also approaching. “Hey,” he greeted. “Can I help you?”

“I was wondering if we could see the pillow menu.” 

Courfeyrac had never heard of a pillow menu in his life, and it must have showed on his face, because Enjolras nodded once, slow. “You don’t have those, either.” 

“What on earth is a pillow menu?” Courfeyrac asked, bewildered. 

“You know, for - firmness, materials..” Enjolras trailed off. “But - please don't worry yourself, I’m sure we’ll survive a single night.” 

“Yes, you’re very brave,” Courfeyrac teased. He didn’t know if he wanted to laugh or not. A pillow menu? Was this guy for real? 

“Right.” Enjolras looked awkward. Courfeyrac had no pity. “Thank you.”

With that, Enjolras retreated, and at the same time, the door opened, and Courfeyrac’s best friend since childhood, Grantaire, walked in. Courfeyrac jumped to his feet. 

“Sneak attack!” He caught Grantaire in a surprise hug, pulling the shorter man right off his feet. 

“Fuck, Courfeyrac! Put me down, you - you -” 

Courfeyrac laughed, and set Grantaire down, and Grantaire punched him affectionately in the shoulder. “Hey, you. Been a minute. How do you like being back in Kentsbury?”

“It’s been great,” Grantaire admitted. “Would you believe they put me in charge of planning the festivities? Me?”

“Hell yeah, of course you,” Courfeyrac grinned at him. “That’s awesome, my dude, you deserve it. Who better? You know everyone, no one knows Kentsbury better, and no one loves it more. You’re gonna do great.” 

“I’m gonna fuck it up, is what I’m gonna do. And this storm - I just hope it all goes smoothly.” Grantaire fidgeted with his hands, and then stopped abruptly as he looked over Courfeyrac’s shoulders. “Who the fuck is that?”

Courfeyrac glanced at where Enjolras and Combeferre had their heads together, talking about something quietly together. “Okay, you gotta be cool, R, okay? They want to keep a low profile. But yes, that’s Prince Julien Enjolras of Galwick, apparently.” 

“Prince - jesus christ, Courfeyrac, you’re bringing royalty to my first try running the festivities? No pressure or anything, holy shit.” Grantaire couldn’t look away. “Fucking hell.” 

“They don’t want to draw any attention,” Courfeyrac reminded him. “So we just have to do business as usual, and pretend like they’re normal people.” 

“Speaking of, who’s that with him?” Grantaire was looking at Combeferre now, and Courfeyrac said as much. 

“That’s his personal aide, Combeferre.” Courfeyrac waggled his eyebrows. 

“The two hottest people alive are standing in your lobby, Courfeyrac,” Grantaire said gravely. “It’s unfair.” 

“Yeah, well, we can look, but that’s it. Combeferre seems alright, but Enjolras’ a bit of a .. well, you know, he’s royalty and he knows it. I don’t think he means poorly by it, but you can tell he’s never had to talk to a normal person in his life,” Courfeyrac confided. “Either way, they’re gone tomorrow.” 

Grantaire sighed wistfully. “We’d better get our eyeful in now, then.”

As they spoke, Combeferre approached. “Hi, I was hoping to talk to you about security. I did a quick perimeter check, and - oh, hi,” Combeferre stopped as he noticed Grantaire. 

“Hello.” Grantaire made a little wave, eyes catching on where Combeferre’s sleeves were rolled up to reveal the edges of tattoos, still mostly hidden. Courfeyrac’s grin grew a mile wide. 

“I’m Combeferre. Uh, Adrien, but - Combeferre is fine.” 

“Grantaire, but they call me R,” Grantaire shook Combeferre’s hand, eyes wide. 

“I was.. Uh. I was wondering,” Combeferre tore his eyes from Grantaire to speak to Courfeyrac again, though he seemed distracted now. “I was wondering about hiring some extra security. For the prince and his mother.” 

“Oh, well, I think I know just the guy to help you out.” Courfeyrac gestured to Grantaire. “R is in charge of the Christmas Festival. There’s already security for the events, I’m sure he can think of something?”

Grantaire stepped forward, blushing just a bit. “We could, uh. Discuss it over some hot cider?” he suggested. 

Combeferre’s smile grew slowly. “That sounds lovely.” 

The pair of them left together, leaving Courfeyrac alone once again with Enjolras, who was coming back down the stairs. “I’m sorry, one more thing,” Enjolras spoke, and Courfeyrac took a deep breath in anticipation of having to tell him no once more. 

“I just wanted to say.. Thank you. You have gone out of your way to help us, and we really do appreciate the hospitality.” It was stilted and formal, and Courfeyrac nearly giggled. 

“You can tell your mother she’s very welcome,” he smiled, raising an eyebrow. 

“I am a grown man and a prince, I don’t need my mother to tell me to say thank you,” Enjolras protested, and Courfeyrac just laughed. 

“You’re both very welcome, then.” 

Enjolras didn’t crack a smile, but Courfeyrac suspected he saw his lips twitch, nonetheless, before he disappeared back up the stairs again. 

  
  


There were carolers, before dinner time, as tonight was also the kickoff of the annual festivities. Courfeyrac had, in the meantime, changed into his most garish Christmas sweater, with twinkling lights and little bells sewn into the fuzzy abomination of a Christmas tree embroidered on it. He was singing as loudly as anyone, with Grantaire on the piano, and the official carolers in their historic garb. Most of the audience was joining in, and it was half-way through one of the songs that Combeferre and Enjolras arrived together. Both of them were dressed in, if possible, sharper suits than before, and they looked terribly out of place in a room full of townsfolk, dressed for a casual affair. They seemed to know it, too. Combeferre looked almost smug, though, as he elbowed Enjolras, who looked mostly uncomfortable. 

They sat through the performance, and Gabriella joined them before too long. She was dressed more appropriately, in a beautiful sweater instead of her sharp, fancy clothes. She was also the only one to join in the singing. She even taught Grantaire a Galwickian carol on the piano, and he picked it up with aplomb as she sang it surprisingly well. 

Ed looked starstruck, and Courfeyrac worried briefly that everyone he cared about was going to get their feelings hurt in the morning, but he brushed it off. Tonight was supposed to be fun - let everyone enjoy themselves. 

Eventually, the party moved to the dining room, where Diane had set out a buffet-style dinner. “Oh, let me -” Ed tried to serve Gabriella, but she waved him off. 

“Nonsense. I was an ordinary woman, you know, before I was queen. Everyone forgets that, but I am quite capable of serving myself.” She plopped several ladles of chilli into her bowl, and took some garlic bread and salad to boot. 

Meanwhile, Enjolras seemed stuck in the doorway. Courfeyrac took a moment of pity, and piped up from behind him, “I guess I should have mentioned that we dress casually, for dinner.” He wasn’t laughing at Enjolras, he promised. 

“This.. is my casual attire,” Enjolras muttered, looking embarrassed. 

“O...kay.” Courfeyrac looked him up and down. The suit did wonderful things for Enjolras’ ass, but, well. “Around here, if you have to use the word attire, you’re probably already overdressed,” he teased. 

“I shall keep it in mind,” Enjolras nodded once, looking about the room, and apparently steeling himself to enter. “Where is my place card?”

“Uh. No place cards, just, you know. Sit wherever,” Courfeyrac gestured around the room. “It looks like your mother’s found a table.” He pointed to the corner, where she and Ed were sitting together with their bowls. 

Enjolras didn’t seem to know what to do with that. Courfeyrac finally took genuine pity on the man. 

“You’re not used to having to talk to regular people, are you?” He asked, not teasing this time, just kind. 

“It just.. Doesn’t work. I try,” he was quick to add. “It’s not that I think I’m better than anyone else, it’s just.. They don’t see me as a regular person, so they don’t treat me that way.” 

“Well..” Courfeyrac considered that. “No one here knows who you are,” he pointed out. “Except me, and my father, and I guess Diane - she’s the caterer - and Grantaire, but really, that’s not so many. Maybe this is your chance to practice.” He couldn’t stay serious for long, of course. “You might have to lose the tie, first, though.” He reached over to tug on the end of it playfully.

Enjolras nodded, considering it, but before he could do or say anything more, his phone rang. He looked at the screen, and Courfeyrac could practically see the walls, which had been starting to fall, coming back up at alarming speed. “It’s Felix. I should really take this,” he said regretfully. “Excuse me.” He left the room, and Courfeyrac watched him go with a sigh, before going to join his father and Gabriella at their table. 

“Is he alright?” Gabriella asked. 

“He got a phone call, looked.. Pretty upset about it. Said it was Felix?” 

“Ah, well, I’m not surprised,” she said knowingly. “That’s about the normal reaction to a call from Felix Tholomyes. He’s a member of parliament, in Galwick. He opposes a bill Julien’s father was trying to pass, before he - well, before he passed himself. Julien is trying to see it through, now.” 

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Courfeyrac’s eyes widened. “I didn’t know.” 

“He passed around Christmas last year,” she looked sad to think about it. “Poor Julien has been trying to live up to that shadow since, and this bill was important to them both. I’m sure he feels he’ll be letting his father down if Tholomyes wins. The vote is meant to be on Christmas Eve.” 

Conversation moved on, but Enjolras never returned. When dessert was being brought out, Courfeyrac stood. “I’m going to go check on him,” he told his father and Gabriella. 

Outside, he could hear part of the conversation. 

“No, I will be back time - of course I care about this bill, I assure you, I would be there if I could - there’s no need to - Yes, alright. Goodbye.” He hung up, and sighed, shoulders sagging. Nearby, the carolers were walking home. 

“Thank you,” Courfeyrac called to them. “You were wonderful!”

Enjolras raised a hand as well. “Yes - well done.” He turned to Courfeyrac. 

“I just came out to let you know dinner’s almost over..” Courfeyrac hovered, unsure what to say. 

“Thank you, but.. I’m not really hungry.” Enjolras looked stressed, and upset - near tears, really. Courfeyrac wondered what had been said. 

They stood in silence for a little while. It had started snowing again, sometime during dinner. Enjolras must be cold, out here in just a suit. The snow reflected the moonlight in his golden hair, and Courfeyrac cursed himself for being distracted in a moment like this. “Is there anything else I can do to help?” he asked, despite knowing the answer already. 

“Unless you’re better versed than I in the political machinations of Galwick.. Very probably not,” Enjolras said with a half-smile. His phone rang again as their eyes met, and he sighed deeply. “I should take this. Again.” 

“I’ll have Diane save you a plate, in case you’re hungry later,” Courfeyrac promised. 

“Thank you, but I really don’t wish to be any trouble,” Enjolras protested, already reaching for his phone. 

“It’s okay,” Courfeyrac assured him, as Enjolras answered his phone. 

“Yes,” Enjolras was saying, “Yes, put him through.” 

Inside the dining hall, Combeferre and Grantaire had returned to join the table. Everyone was finishing up their dessert, and talking happily amongst each other. 

“That,” Gabriella said, wiping her lips daintily, “was absolutely wonderful. I’d like to thank the chef myself, if I may.” 

“Oh, well, Diane would just love that,” Ed enthused. “I’ll show you to the kitchen.” 

Diane was there, in her most Christmassy apron, hair in a messy bun from a hectic evening of plating and preparing food. There was a bright pink towel thrown over one shoulder, and despite it, Ed lit up upon seeing her, like he was in the presence of the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. It warmed Courfeyrac’s heart. 

“Hi, Diane,” he said with a bright smile, Gabriella and Combeferre close behind. 

“Oh, hello, Ed,” she beamed back at him. 

Combeferre began checking dishes and pots, and he concluded by grabbing a pair of tongs and clacking them. 

“Adrien,” Gabriella clucked, bemused, “What on earth are you looking for?”

“Anything out of the ordinary, your Majesty.”

Diane’s eyes widened, and she hastened to let down her hair, fluffing herself a bit as she caught sight of the queen in her kitchens. Courfeyrac raised an eyebrow. Well, this was an interesting development. 

Gabriella turned to face Diane, and Ed jumped to introduce them. “Diane Harris, may I introduce Queen Gabriella Enjolras of Galwick.” 

Diane did a little curtsy, much better than Ed’s own, and blushed bright red. “Oh, my goodness. It’s so nice to meet you, your majesty.”

“Gabriella will be fine,” the queen assured her, all good grace (and perhaps blushing a little herself). 

“Well, if I’d known there would be royalty at my dinner, I'd have served something a little more - royal.” Diane was almost out of breath as she continued rambling, “Of course, I’m not quite sure what that is, but I would have figured it out.” She looked a little in awe, and really, who could blame her. “Duck, maybe? No! Pheasant.” 

“Diane,” Gabriella interrupted, looking as charmed as could be. “What you prepared was lovely! Perfect, in fact. I’ve never had such good chili in my life - I’ll have to have the recipe for the royal kitchen.” 

Diane might have started hyperventilating at the compliment, but she got herself under control. 

“You see?” Ed said, reaching out to pat her on the shoulder. “I told you she would like it. Best Chilli in all the world.” 

She leaned against him. “You did,” she admitted. 

“Oh,” Gabriella pouted for a moment, but she recovered quickly. “And how long have you two been a couple?”

“What?” Diane sprung from Ed’s side, and they both blushed hard. “Oh, no, we’re not-”

“We’re not-” Ed said at the same time as her, and they both blushed harder. “It’s not like that. Diane’s run these kitchens as long as either of us can remember.” 

“We’re coworkers.” 

“Friends.” 

“Good friends.” 

“That’s right, we’re - old friends.” 

Both of them seemed a little wistful, and Gabriella got a scheming look in her eye. “Is that so? Well that’s just lovely. Er - may I try the pastry?” She gestured at the plate Diane was holding, and Diane held it out. 

Gabriella took it with a playful grin, and took a big bite. “Oh, this is delicious. Diane!” 

“Oh, goodness, thank you,” Diane seemed pleased. “I made it all myself, even the jam.” 

“It’s delightful. You’re delightful - you both are,” the queen beamed at them both. “I’m ever so glad to have ended up here with you.” 

“Well, so are we,” Ed piped up, and they shared the remainder of the pastry between the three of them. Courfeyrac and Combeferre exchanged a look, and backed out of the kitchen to let the three of them have their moment. 

“Shame you’re all leaving in the morning,” Courfeyrac mused to Combeferre when they were back in the hall, which had been slowly emptying. Only a few hangers-on remained, and those who were staying in the inn. 

“Hm, yes. It’s very important that the royal family return to Galwick, though,” Combeferre reminded him. 

“No, I know,” Courfeyrac glanced back towards the kitchen. “Still…” His father and Diane both seemed so taken with Gabriella, and if Courfeyrac knew anything about Gabriella at all, he suspected she liked them, too. “It’s just a shame. It seems everyone but Julien - Prince Enjolras, that is - is having such fun. Even you.” 

“I had a very fruitful conversation with Grantaire,” Combeferre agreed, side-stepping the point and acknowledging it silently all at once. “He is..” He seemed not to know what to say. 

“Yeah, he is, isn’t he?” Courfeyrac agreed knowingly. 

“Still, we must be going as soon as we can be.” If Courfeyrac didn’t know better, he’d think Combeferre looked wistful at the thought, looking out at the snow falling steadily out the window. 

“Yeah. Yeah, I guess so.” 

  
  


Before heading to bed, Courfeyrac brought a tray up to Enjolras’ door. A bowl of chilli, some hot slices of garlic bread, and a plate of assorted pastries. He knocked, and then snuck away before Enjolras could answer, hiding behind a potted plant halfway down the hall. 

The door opened, and Enjolras poked his head out, hair mussed, jacket missing. There was a tin of popcorn in one arm. He looked around, and saw no one, then noticed the tray at his feet. He set his tin down, and reached down for his food. His posture was more casual than Courfeyrac had ever seen it, and then the impossible happened. Enjolras smiled, a real, proper smile, not just a half-hearted sad one. It was a smile Courfeyrac thought he would wrangle the moon itself to see again. He watched as Enjolras took the tray into his room, and shut the door softly behind him. 

  
  



	2. December 21

The next morning, Enjolras and Combeferre were once again dressed to the nines as they came down the stairs, carrying their suitcases behind them. 

“Good morning,” Enjolras greeted. “Thank you for the tray last night. You were right, it was delicious.” He seemed in a better mood, now. 

“I’m glad you liked it,” Courfeyrac said from behind the counter, not looking forward to bursting his bubble, “Because… well, you’re going to be eating a lot more of it.” 

“I beg your pardon.” Enjolras said flatly, looking between Ed and Alex Courfeyrac. Ed led them to the door, which, luckily, opened inward, because there was a foot and a half of snow blocking the doorway. Enjolras’ jaw dropped almost comically, before he collected himself. 

“When I went to bed, it wasn’t even snowing anymore!” Enjolras protested. He looked both gobsmacked and utterly horrified, and Courfeyrac thought it would be funny if it weren’t such a terrible situation.

“Well, you know what they say about New England weather… Don’t like it, wait five minutes,” Courfeyrac joked, hoping to lighten the mood.

“I don't have five minutes,” Enjolras said with a weary look. He shook his head and walked away from the door again. Courfeyrac watched him go and fought not to roll his eyes. 

Gabriella appeared in that tense moment. “Is there a problem?” she asked. 

“We’re snowed in,” Courfeyrac said apologetically. “No one’s going anywhere.”

“Oh dear!” She didn’t look disappointed at all. In fact, she looked like she was trying to hide delight. 

“I’ll.. bring the luggage back up,” Combeferre sighed, but he, too, looked like he didn’t mind all that much. Well, he seemed to mind the luggage, just not the staying. 

“No, leave the luggage,” Enjolras protested again, raising a hand in frustration. “We’re not giving up! There has to be some way. The snow plows will be here soon enough.” Courfeyrac wondered if he wasn’t used to being told no, or if he was just this stubborn about everything, all the time. 

“I’m sorry, Julien,” Ed shook his head. “We’re not on a main road. It’ll be hours before they get to us, and that’s only after the snow stops.” 

Everyone paused to look outside, where the snow was still falling steadily. 

“Well - we’ll hire a helicopter, then!” Enjolras insisted, looking more and more stressed by the minute. Courfeyrac assumed it was only royal face cream, or something, that kept his skin so perfect when he was always wound so tight. 

“Don’t be ridiculous, Julien,” Gabriella shook her head at him. “We’ll wait it out like everyone else.” She shouldn’t look so pleased about it, but her smile wasn’t even really hidden anymore. 

“If you’re still here at five,” Courfeyrac suggested when she turned to look at him, “You’ll be here to see the Christmas parade.” 

“How can there be a parade in these conditions?” Enjolras almost snapped, looking more frustrated than ever. 

“Main Street is one of the first to get plowed, and most people in Galwick can walk there,” Courfeyrac shrugged. 

“And the parade will go on, so that even if we’re all snowed in, everyone has somewhere to go,” Ed added. 

Enjolras made an exasperated sound and collapsed into a red armchair. 

“It’s probably not a good idea to bring the Queen and Crown Prince of Galwick anywhere without proper security,” Combeferre pointed out, though he sounded disappointed. 

“Yes! Exactly,” Enjolras latched onto the excuse. “And besides, I’m sure we’ll be gone long before five. And in the meantime,” he stood again and straightened his jacket, “I have quite a lot of work to do.” He strode off for the stairs, all in a huff. 

“Oh, like what?” Courfeyrac was finding himself frustrated by Enjolras’ attitude, but he put on the cheeriest voice he could. “I’ve  _ always _ wanted to know what royal people do all day.” 

“Well, I can assure you it’s not like a Jane Austen book,” Enjolras snapped. “We don’t sit around - sipping tea, and - and reading poetry.” 

“Mmmm,” Gabriella tipped her head, and pursed her lips, hiding a smile. “Sometimes we do.” 

Enjolras glared at her, and breathed out through his nose. “There’s a lot more to it than that. For instance..” he paused, “we have elaborate picnics.” He looked like he was doing his best not to be too pleased with himself. For a politician, he didn’t have a very good poker face - he was almost smug. 

“Was that a  _ joke _ ? Courfeyrac grinned, delighted. “Enjolras!” 

“Tell no one,” Enjolras insisted, with the barest hint of a grin. “Though - I really should get to work.” 

“Your secret is safe with me, your highness.” Courfeyrac and Gabriella were both grinning, wide as could be at him, and he disappeared back up the stairs. 

  
  


The Enjolras family were not gone by five. Enjolras had spent the day seated in the library, working on his speech for the vote. He hadn't been pleased to discover that the airport had suffered damage to the runway, stranding them there another night. The news that now he’d be expected to attend a parade as well… well. While normally, he had nothing against parades, this speech really was important, and if he couldn’t be at home, canvassing for votes himself, he needed to at least be working on his speech. He needed to connect, his mother had said. Well, he wasn’t exactly good at that. How was he supposed to connect when no one ever let him? And now he was so out of practice… his mother had assured him he would find the words, but time was running out. And everyone was insisting he attend this silly parade. How might have fought an order from his queen, but she had said it was a request, from his mum, and who was he to deny her when she asked him like that?

So it was that Prince Julien Enjolras of Galwick stepped out of the inn, once again owning not a single correct thing for the occasion, alongside his mother, who was lovely as always in a soft white coat and winter boots. He wiggled his toes in his dress shoes, already feeling the cold. 

Outside, Courfeyrac, Ed, and Diane were loading sleds up with gifts. 

“Oh! What’s this?” Gabriella exclaimed, stepping up to greet them. 

“Everyone donates a toy for Santa’s sleigh,” Courfeyrac explained. “It’s an annual fundraiser.” 

“That’s lovely,” Gabriella beamed. 

Courfeyrac glanced Enjolras over, despite himself. “Oh - you’re not really going to walk in the snow in those?” he asked, appalled at the sight of the dress shoes, and despite Enjolras’ own previous thoughts, not a moment ago, about the cold, he certainly wasn’t going to admit he was wrong - especially not to Courfeyrac. 

“I certainly can. I’ll be fine - they’re waterproof.” He could feel his toes getting damp. 

“Well.. if you slip and fall, do it after we leave the inn,” Courfeyrac joked. 

“I’ll do my best,” Enjolras promised. His nose was pink because of the cold, that was all. 

Everyone headed out for the parade, and Enjolras offered to take the sleds himself. 

“Where’s Combeferre?” Courfeyrac noticed Enjolras’ attentive shadow was missing. 

“He went ahead with Grantaire, I believe. Something about checking the perimeter.” 

Something about Enjolras’ sour expression told Courfeyrac that that was probably code for ‘making out in a bush somewhere,’ and he grinned. “Well, then I’m sure we’re in very safe hands.” 

“Indeed.” One of Enjolras’ rare almost-smiles made an appearance. They continued walking, the sleigh still dragging behind. 

As they walked, Courfeyrac greeted people he knew with a friendly wave and a hello. One of them stopped them both in the street. 

“Aex! And you brought someone home this year, that’s lovely! How long have you two been together, and why haven’t I heard of you?” Floriel, a local bartender, asked Enjolras. 

“Oh, we’re not-” Enjolras corrected, looking at Courfeyrac uncertainly. 

“He’s just a guest at the inn,” Courfeyrac told Floriel, doing his best not to blush. 

“Oh.” She looked between them, and then pointedly at Courfeyrac. “Well.. welcome to Kentsbury, then,” she shrugged. “I’ll see you at the pyjama ball?”

“Of course.” Courfeyrac smiled at her, and they all continued on their way. 

“It seems as though everyone in this town knows you,” Enjolras observed. 

“Well… it’s a small town,” Courfeyrac shrugged. “We kinda do all know each other. Must be weird for you, though, walking around and no one knowing you?”

“I’m finding I rather like it,” Enjolras admitted. “It’s refreshing. At any other time, I might even take the time to - well, to try to connect, as my mother suggests, but I simply haven’t the time.” 

“Right, she mentioned you have a big vote coming up,” Courfeyrac acknowledged. “I’m sorry. I know it must be stressful, being away from home right now.”

“The circumstances aren’t ideal.” Enjolras looked down at his shoes, and then ahead on the road. “I wish I could really enjoy the festivities, the way my mother and Combeferre are. The way you do.” 

“Why not both? You can’t work all the time - sometimes what you need is a break in order to really get those brain juices flowing,” Courfeyrac suggested. They arrived at the start of the parade, and began loading presents onto Santa’s parade float. 

“Oh! There’s Santa,” Courfeyrac announced, giddy with excitement. 

“Tch,” Enjolras made a noise.   
“Oh, come on, you’re telling me you don’t get excited to see Santa?” Courfeyrac demanded. 

“When I was young, and Santa used to come to the palace, we didn’t ask for gifts. A bit untoward, for a family that has so much, don’t you think?”

“Aw, but gifts don’t have to be  _ things _ ,” Courfeyrac protested. 

“Well, I know that  _ now _ ,” Enjolras made a face that was most certainly  _ not _ a pout, “But.. well, Santa doesn’t come to the palace anymore.” 

“Well, now’s your chance!” Courfeyrac grinned at him. “Go on, get up there.” He pushed at Enjolras - lightly, mindful of the terrible, terrible shoes he was wearing, and not wanting him to fall. 

“Hey!” Enjolras protested, but he didn’t need much more persuading. Santa (played by the local priest, Father Myriel), smiled widely at him. 

“Well! A new face in Kentsbury for Christmas. What is it you desire, my boy?”

Enjolras blushed red, and glanced back at Courfeyrac. He felt ridiculous, but Courfeyrac motioned for him to go on. “I - it’s been a very long time - I’ve never really.. Gotten to ask for anything. For Christmas. I don’t need material possessions -” He was struggling, and he looked over his shoulder at Courfeyrac. “This is ridiculous, I’m a grown man, I know Santa isn’t real.” 

“Perhaps not, but all things are possible at this time of year, don’t you think?” Myriel asked. “Go on, I’ve been told I’m a very good listener.” 

Enjolras sighed. “I just - want to make a real connection. I want to learn how to learn how to do that. And - I want to make my father proud.” He was thinking of Courfeyrac, of course, though that was foolish - he had to leave, he couldn’t just just stay here, and enjoy a quiet Christmas with a cute boy. He had responsibilities. 

“Ah,” Myriel nodded in understanding. “Duty lies heavily on you, doesn’t it? Still, I believe you can do both of those things. There is room in your heart for so much love. Let people see the love in you, and they will come to love you. A cliche, perhaps, but my advice? Simply be yourself, and the rest will come” 

Enjolras’ first instinct was to reject that. He needed to be many things, in this role he found himself in. But he chose not to say so. He just nodded slowly. “I have a lot to think about. Thank you, er -” 

“Father Myriel,” Santa introduced himself, “But you may call me Santa tonight, if you so wish.” 

“Thank you, Father Myriel.” Enjolras stepped back off the sleigh, oddly pensive. 

Courfeyrac wondered what had happened up there, but he didn’t ask. He got the feeling, from the look on Enjolras’ face, that it was probably personal. 

“How’d it go?” he asked instead. 

“Somehow, both better and worse than I expected,” Enjolras admitted, and he would say no more on the topic. 

  
  


Somewhere along the route, Ed, Diane and Gabriella arrived at their seats. “Hot cocoa, anyone?” Ed suggested, and the two women exclaimed in delight and followed him to the stand. Nearby, Combeferre and Grantaire were standing, ostensible making sure security was right, and that everything was going according to plan. Grantaire, though, was blushing high on his cheeks, hair a bit mussed, and even Combeferre looked a little less proper than he had. Combeferre looked quite pleased with himself, in fact, and if one looked closely enough, they might notice that their hands were clasped together. 

This was the scene Enjolras and Courfeyrac returned to - Combeferre and Grantaire canoodling nearby; Ed, Diane, and Gabriella sharing hot cocoa on folding chairs. Courfeyrac wished, for just a moment, that everything could stay like this. His romantic heart told him maybe it could. He wasn’t so worried about his father and Diane, they had each other, but Grantaire.. His mood was precarious at the best of times. He was prone to extreme highs and lows, and Courfeyrac hated to see him hurt. He smiled as he walked up to the couple. 

“Grantaire!” He pulled Grantaire aside with an apologetic smile. When they were alone, he added, “Hey, I just - be careful, yeah? I mean, you know he’s going to be leaving, right?”

“Courfeyrac,” Grantaire frowned. “Look, I - I get why you’re so worried. I do, I know my track record for dealing with heartbreak isn’t exactly fantastic. But I like him, I really do. Combeferre is great. And he likes me too, for whatever reason. And - sure, okay, maybe it won’t last. It probably can’t last, why would it? But just this once, I want to take the risk.” 

Courfeyrac frowned a little, but he hugged Grantaire and nodded. “You know I’ll be here for you, whatever happens, right?”

“I know,” Grantaire assured him. “Speaking of chances, though.. You and your prince seem to be getting along better.” Grantaire waggled his eyebrows. 

“Shush!” Courfeyrac smacked Grantaire’s arm, blushing. “No, it’s not like that, come on.” 

“Like hell, I see how you two look at each other. You want a piece of the royal action,” Grantaire teased. 

“Shut up,” Courfeyrac groaned. “Anyway, he’s off limits. Now there’s something that could never work.” 

“You don’t know that.” 

“Hey, aren’t you supposed to be the pessimist?” Courfeyrac protested. 

“No, I’m a realist. And - I don’t know, maybe it’s just the holidays, but he really does like you, I think,” Grantaire told Courfeyrac. “Maybe it won't last, sure, but - why not go for it anyway?”

“Why are you being me today, and why am I being you?” Courfeyrac asked Grantaire, bemused. 

“I have no idea,” Grantaire laughed, “but c’mon. Worst case, he leaves in the morning, and it was a passing fling. You have lots of experience with those.” 

“Ugh. I told you, it’s not like that,” Courfeyrac protested once more. 

  
  


Grantaire had to join his own float in the parade, much to his simultaneous excitement and chagrin, but the rest of them gathered together, Combeferre, Courfeyrac and Enjolras standing behind Ed, Diane, and Gabriella’s seats. It was a cheerful affair; Diane had procured them some candy nuts, and various floats threw down candy canes and chocolate treats, which Enjolras himself gathered and distributed amongst their little group. Courfeyrac thought he spied Diane and Gabriella holding hands, but he didn’t comment. He thought it was sweet, the romance blossoming between the three of them. When Grantaire’s float passed by, he blew them a kiss, probably meant mostly for Combeferre. Courfeyrac made a show of catching it, and blowing it back, and he could tell Grantaire only narrowly resisted raising a middle finger for the sake of the children also watching. 

As it was drawing to an end, Courfeyrac and Enjolras went for hot cocoas of their own. The woman serving them raised an eyebrow. “Welcome home, Alex. And it’s very nice to meet  _ you, _ ” she gave Enjolras a knowing look. 

“She.. thinks we’re..” Enjolras murmured to Courfeyrac, surprised. 

Courfeyrac blushed. “For some reason, everyone here is  _ very _ invested in my love life,” he murmured back. 

“So I’ve noticed.” It seemed most people they’d passed over the course of the day had assumed the two of them were a couple. “Try being a single crown prince nearing thirty.” 

Courfeyrac thanked the woman serving cocoa, and walked with Enjolras back toward their group. “I guess every relationship you’re in is under a lot of scrutiny, huh?” Another reason, he reminded himself, that they wouldn’t work. 

“Yes,” Enjolras agreed. “Not to mention the expectation that my match will be somehow advantageous, despite the fact that to be so openly would look just as bad. And besides  _ that _ , the only people willing to brave the scrutiny seem to be the ones who want money, or power, and don’t seem to care to know me beyond that.” 

“It must be hard,” Courfeyrac said. It sounded hard. He himself tended to love fairly freely; he couldn’t imagine always having to worry about another person’s motivations like that. 

The parade ended as they rejoined the group. Gabriella stood, and clasped Ed’s hands. “That was just wonderful. Thank you, for sharing it with us.” 

Grantaire arrived in a horse-drawn buggy, decorated in green branches. “What did you all think?” He said all, but he was looking at Combeferre, who walked up to offer Grantaire his hand getting off the carriage.

“Oh,” Grantaire smiled, blushing a bit and accepting the hand. 

“Very festive,” Combeferre answered, and Grantaire looked pleased. “You looked - good. Up there. Very in your element.” 

“Well, I don’t know about that,” Grantaire blushed, but he seemed to enjoy the compliment. 

“No, you did wonderfully,” Gabriella insisted. “We had a marvellous time.” 

“I’m glad to hear it,” Grantaire smiled, eyes still locked with Combeferre’s. 

“Would you like to walk back to the inn?” Combeferre asked Grantaire, offering his arm. 

“I’d be delighted,” Grantaire accepted, turning his head to wink at Courfeyrac, who shook his head fondly. 

The pair started to walk away, and Enjolras took a step out of their way - directly into a puddle, plunging one foot into ankle-deep slush and snow. 

Combeferre hesitated. “..Sir?” he checked. 

Enjolras shook his head. “I’m fine,” he assured him. He didn’t want to prevent Combeferre from having his walk with Grantaire. “Go on.” 

“If you say so,” Combeferre agreed. 

The pair continued on their way, and Courfeyrac grinned pitilessly. “Well?”

“Well, what?” Enjolras would be pouting, if he weren’t an adult, and a prince. 

“ _ Well, _ I’m waiting for you to tell me I was right. About your poor choice in winter footwear,” Courfeyrac laughed at him.

Enjolras glared, and Courfeyrac laughed again. 

“I guess, if your shoes really are warm and waterproof, there’s no need for me to ask for a ride home.. We can just walk. In the damp, and the cold.” Courfeyrac grinned at Enjolras, whose pout only grew more pronounced. 

“Fine!” he muttered. “Fine, you were right.”

“Yes,” Courfeyrac looked awfully satisfied with himself. “Yes, I am.” He waved at the driver of the carriage. “I don’t suppose we could get a ride back to the Inn for my snow-challenged friend?”

“Sure, hop on up,” the old man agreed cheerfully. 

“Now, Courfeyrac,” Enjolras turned on Courfeyrac, who raised an eyebrow. 

“Yes?”

“It so happens that carriages are my domain, and well, it would be awfully awkward to ride alone.” Enjolras gripped Courfeyrac by the waist, and lifted him onto the carriage. Courfeyrac stared with wide eyes, struck dumb. “Up you get.” Now it was Enjolras’ turn to look awfully pleased with himself, particularly at Courfeyrac’s expression. 

They were nearly close enough to kiss. For a moment, Courfeyrac was sure Enjolras was considering it. For a moment, Enjolras was sure Courfeyrac was considering it. But the moment passed, and Enjolras cleared his throat, before climbing onto the carriage alongside Courfeyrac. 

“You kids ready to go?” The driver asked, and Courfeyrac nodded. 

“Yeah - yes. Let’s get home, before this one gets frostbite.” 

The driver started the horses, and Courfeyrac shuffled in his seat. “Uh - here. Put your feet under this, so they don't become footsicles.” He showed Enjolras a blanket in the back of the carriage. 

Enjolras looked at him for a moment, before doing as he was told. “You never stop, do you?”

“Never stop what? I’m just trying to help,” Courfeyrac said defensively. 

“That’s - what I meant. You’re always looking for ways to help people.” It hadn’t been unkindly meant - just an observation. A curious one. 

“Yeah, well..” Courfeyrac didn’t know what to say. “I guess sometimes it’s just easier to focus on what other people need, you know?” He didn’t know why he was being so honest. He was barely this honest with himself. 

“I know what you mean,” Enjolras answered just as honestly, though, his voice soft, more vulnerable than Courfeyrac had heard it before. “It’s not always easy, though, I guess… but being in my position, it means always putting your people first. They trust us, for some reason, to do just that - to help, to do the right thing, in their best interests.” 

“It must be a lot of pressure,” Courfeyrac prodded gently. “Taking over for your father..” 

“He was a great man,” Enjolras said. There was silence between them for a moment, which Courfeyrac chose not to interrupt. Enjolras clearly needed to gather his thoughts. “A good man, too. He did a lot to bring Galwick together, and the people loved him. I’m afraid I’ll never be quite as good, that I’ll never be quite enough,” he confessed. 

“They’ll come to love you, too,” Courfeyrac tried to reassure him. “You may not be your father, but you’re - I mean, I’ve seen how hard you’re working. And it sounds like whatever this bill is, it’ll be important. It - and they - obviously mean a lot to you. Maybe you just have to show them that. Show them this side of you, rather than the cold, emotionless robot of a man I met - wow, was it only two days ago? Anyway, my point is, you’re not half bad, when you loosen up a bit.” All of Enjolras’ edges seemed softer now, somehow - he’d started making jokes, and now he was showing a lot of vulnerability. 

“I have to pass this bill.” 

“I know. And you will, Enjolras.” Courfeyrac reached out and squeezed Enjolras’ hand. “I know you will.” 

At that moment, they passed by a pair of tourists, who snapped some photos. Enjolras hid his face. 

“It’s okay,” Courfeyrac assured him, “They’re not taking photos of you, just the carriage. It’s very quintessential small town New England at Christmas.” 

“Still,” Enjolras frowned. “It’ll be harder to show the people I care about them if I’m seen frolicking about Connecticut when I should be canvassing for votes in Galwick.” 

“Don’t worry.” Courfeyrac shook his head at him, “I doubt anyone could accuse you of anything as frivolous as  _ frolicking _ .”

The carriage passed by Grantaire and Combeferre, walking slowly, arm in arm. 

“Oh, I see, you hired transportation,” Grantaire shouted after them, laughing. “It’s not that long of a walk, you know.” 

“I had a footwear malfunction,” Enjolras defended himself with a glint in his eye. “I could have gotten  _ frostbite. _ ” 

“Of course, sir,” Combeferre smiled at him, bemused. He chuckled to himself, and Grantaire joined in the laughter as the carriage pulled ahead. 

“Oh, god, Combeferre’s never going to let me live this down,” Enjolras groaned with a half-smile. 

“I’m sure he has to, you’re his boss,” Courfeyrac pointed out. 

“I’m also his best friend - we were at boarding school together,” Enjolras admitted. 

“Really?” Courfeyrac wouldn’t have guessed, but then, looking back, he supposed some of their interactions did come off more as teasing friends, through that lens. And the rest was probably performative - being the prince’s aide probably required a certain amount of professionalism in public, he supposed. 

“Yes. We’re quite close - he was going to become a doctor, actually.” Enjolras looked a bit guilty at that. 

“What happened?”

“Well.. school ended, and we didn’t want to be separated. I desperately needed someone I could trust in my corner, and he was there, every step of the way. Before either of us knew it, this was just.. What we had become. I’ve told him he’s always welcome to chase his own dreams, rather than my shadow, but he’s always insisted he’s happiest where he is.” Enjolras shrugged. “I’m lucky to have him.” 

“He sounds like a wonderful friend.” 

They arrived at the inn, and Enjolras crossed the carriage to get down first, before helping Courfeyrac down. “And they say chivalry is dead,” Courfeyrac teased as he took his hand to dismount from the carriage. 

“Thank you,” Enjolras addressed the driver, who nodded before driving away again. Combeferre and Grantaire came tumbling in the door around the same time as them, and Enjolras hung his coat, before toeing off his shoes carefully, and resting them on a radiator to dry. “I shall head upstairs and find some dry socks,” he announced. 

“Oh! I have just the thing.” Courfeyrac dashed across the front room of the inn, and tossed a package at Enjolras’ head. 

Enjolras caught it with surprising agility, and tore the package open. Inside were fuzzy reindeer socks, and he groaned and threw them back. 

“Before you leave, you shall wear the christmas socks!” Courfeyrac announced, waving them at him and mimicking Enjolras’ formal way of speaking. 

“I shall not,” Enjolras protested, but he was laughing. 

Ed and the others must have arrived ahead of them, because he came in looking grave. 

“Bad news about the airport?” Enjolras guessed, sobering up. 

“Actually, you’re on a flight out first thing in the morning.” He nodded once, and stuffed his hands in his pockets. 

“Oh! That’s..” Enjolras glanced at Courfeyrac, and at Combeferre and Grantaire, all with carefully schooled expressions. “That’s excellent news.” He looked much less cheerful than he should, given the circumstances. 

“You look like there’s still bad news,” Courfeyrac frowned. 

“Well, there’s been an issue with the pavilion for the pyjama ball,” Ed told them. 

“Pyjama ball?” Enjolras repeated the name. “Someone mentioned that, earlier,” he recalled.

“It’s one of our biggest traditions,” Courfeyrac explained. “At the end of all the festivities, on Christmas eve, there’s a dance. Everyone comes in their pyjamas, there’s food, music.. Our family has sponsored it for the past 75 years.” 

“Well, the roof of the pavilion caved in under all the snow,” Ed said, sounding dismal. 

“I just got the text.” Grantaire looked devastated. All his hard work planning it… 

“Well, can’t they repair it?” Courfeyrac asked. 

“Not until after Christmas,” Ed shook his head. 

“So.. we have a skylight, that’s okay,” Courfeyrac insisted. 

“Building code,” Grantaire shook his head. “And I’d suggest the community centre, but they’re already set up for their event Christmas morning. No where else has enough space.” 

“What about the barn? We could bring in space heaters?”

“Fire hazard,” Grantaire shot them down again with a shake of his head. 

“R, stop being so damn good at your job,” Courfeyrac frowned. “We can’t cancel the pyjama ball. It was mom’s favourite.” 

“It wouldn’t be the first time something in Kentsbury, New England got cancelled because of the weather,” Ed said sadly. 

“It’s the 75th anniversary!” 

“Why not hold it here?” Enjolras had been listening carefully. “You do have a ballroom, don’t you?”

“Is it big enough? Can we get it done in time? With only a few days?” Courfeyrac asked. 

“I can ask the party rental about a couple of tents.. Between both, maybe it’ll be enough?” R suggested. “I’ll have to wait until tomorrow, though, it’s too late tonight.” 

Courfeyrac’s shoulders sagged, and Ed patted his shoulders to cheer him up. “Until then, the tree needs to be trimmed,” he announced. “I already got the decorations out.” 

“Oooh,” Gabriella had been sitting practically in Diane’s lap in an armchair not meant to be shared by two people. “Is this another Kensbury Christmas event?” Diane’s arms were wrapped around her waist. 

“Just a Courfeyrac family one, actually,” Ed corrected her. “We always wait for Alex to come home, before we decorate the tree next to the fireplace. Would you all care to join us?”

“Oh, we couldn’t intrude on a family tradition,” Enjolras declined, though he seemed reluctant to do so.

Gabriella handed her tea cup to Diane, and stood up. “You know, I haven't decorated a tree since I met your father,” she said to Enjolras. 

“I don’t think I’ve decorated a tree.. Ever,” Enjolras admitted. “There was always too much to do at Christmas time, and a whole team of people to decorate the palace for us.” 

“Well, we have a team here too,” Ed declared, “and now you’re on it. I won’t take no for an answer, come on, come on.” He gestured for them both to come join them, and Enjolras and Gabriella both laughed, before joining in. Combeferre and Grantaire joined in, too. Everyone was given a necklace of christmas lights, and a box of decorations. There was singing, and laughing, as the tree went up. Courfeyrac met Enjolras’ eyes from across the room, and for a moment, it all faded away to just the two of them. Enjolras looked radiant, a garland wrapped around his head like a crown, a bit of glitter on his nose. Grantaire dragged Combeferre over to the piano, and they began a duet to the tune of a Galwickian Christmas carol. Gabriella sang the words, and after a beat, Enjolras joined her. Courfeyrac’s heart stopped when he heard Enjolras sing - he had the voice of an angel, truly. 

“Is this your mother?” It was later in the evening, the decorating almost done, when Enjolras held up a homemade picture frame, decorated with painted pasta. A three-year-old Courfeyrac sat on the lap of a woman who looked so much like him. 

“Yeah,” he smiled softly. 

“You look just like her.” Enjolras smiled back. “She’s all dressed up, like she’s attending a ball back in Galwick.” 

“Ooh, what are balls like in Galwick?” Diane asked, pausing in her digging through a box. 

“Oh, they’re lovely,” Gabriella answered wistfully. “The adults would get dressed up, and dance the night away, while the children had their own party in the dining hall, precious in their pyjamas. Adrien and Julien were right little terrors, of course, stealing all the pastries from the kitchens and running about making trouble.” 

“Mother,” Enjolras protested, and even Combeferre blushed a bit as Grantaire nudged him in the side. 

“Well - hey, we could do that here,” Ed jumped to his feet. “Have the adults in the ballroom, in the old traditional style, and the kids can have their pyjama party in the dining hall!”

“We can’t change it,” Courfeyrac protested. “It’s - well, it’s the pyjama ball, it’s how we’ve always done it.”

“Oh! Gosh, no,” Ed laughed. “No, the ball always used to be a proper formal one, but you were such a handful as a toddler, your mum was just dead on her feet by Christmas eve, and needed to put her hair down for a night. The pyjamas were going to be a one-time thing, but it kinda stuck,” he shrugged. “And you loved it so much.” 

“It’s not a bad idea,” Grantaire pointed out. “It solves the space problem.” 

“I think we have old decorations up in the attic,” Ed was beaming now. “Check ‘em out tomorrow, see what you can get to work. Between all of us, I know we can pull it off.” 

Courfeyrac was hesitant a moment longer, but he nodded. “I.. well, I suppose…” he wasn’t sure how he felt about changing such a long-standing tradition, but it did solve the problem of the ball happening at all. He nodded slowly. 

“And in the meantime - Enjolras, would you like to do the honours?” He handed Enjolras the glittering star to top the tree. 

“Thank you.” Enjolras was touched to be so included in this - he hadn’t ever had a Christmas quite like this. He set the star carefully atop the tree, and Courfeyrac turned the whole thing on, so the tree shone in silver and white lights. 

When the tree was done, they curled up on the couch to drink cocoa, eat cookies, and watch the original old Christmas cartoons of the Grinch, Rudolph, and Frosty the Snowman on the television. Diane, Ed, and Gabriella shared one couch, all three curled up together. Diane had fallen asleep with her head on Gabriella’s shoulder, and Ed had an arm curled around both of them together. Combeferre and Grantaire had taken over a love seat, Combeferre weaving his fingers through Grantaire’s unruly curls absent-mindedly. That left Enjolras and Courfeyrac sharing the big armchair, Courfeyrac perched on one arm. When Enjolras’ own arm reached out halfway through the second movie, to draw Courfeyrac off the arm, squishing them together on the seat of the armchair, Courfeyrac couldn’t bring himself to mind too much. 

  
  
  


It was the middle of the night when Courfeyrac crept back into the kitchen, looking for a midnight snack in his pyjamas. There was someone there, rustling in the fridge. He snuck up to see who it was, and they both jumped when Enjolras closed the door. 

“Oh, my goodness,” Enjolras put a hand to his chest. He was wearing blue striped pyjamas and a red housecoat. In his hand was a plate of leftovers. “I’m sorry, this is so rude of me, I was up late working on.. Well, you know, and I would have called room service, but -” 

“Yeah, no, I get it. It’s chill, mi casa es su casa and all that,” Courfeyrac waved off the apology. “You uh - you have a real Captain Von Trapp thing going on, I see,” he gestured at Enjolras’ whole.. Everything. 

“I know you think I don’t understand that reference,” Enjolras waved a finger at Courfeyrac, “But I do, and can I just say.. It’s an honour,” he joked, and Courfeyrac laughed. This side of Enjolras was sweet, and funny, and Courfeyrac didn’t know what to do with that. 

“Well, if we were still having a pyjama ball, you’d win.” 

“Best dressed?” Enjolras asked. 

“Most dressed,” Courfeyrac corrected with a laugh. He was wearing a t-shirt which read, ‘too fly to be a straight guy,’ and red shorts with a christmas wreath on one butt cheek. 

“Right..” Enjolras blushed a bit. He never did seem to have the right clothes for the occasion - it was getting embarrassing. 

“Cocoa?” Courfeyrac offered, “To go with those cookies?”

“Is it a law, that at Christmastime in Kentsbury, one must always be drinking either cocoa, eggnog, or cider?” Enjolras asked, bemused, though he accepted the offer. 

“Yes, actually,” Courfeyrac replied, prim, “And if you break it, I’ll have to have you arrested. It’ll be an international scandal,” he gasped, heating up some milk. 

When the cocoa was made, they migrated into the living room. Courfeyrac lit the tree again, and sat on the couch, inviting Enjolras to join him. “C’mon, you.” 

Enjolras sat, and Courfeyrac asked, “Do you trust me?”

“Provisionally,” Enjolras allowed.   
“I don't know what that means,” Courfeyrac informed him, “But it doesn’t matter. Close your eyes.” 

“But -” 

“Clooose your eyes,” Courfeyrac drew out the word as he repeated himself, and Enjolras obeyed. “No peeking,” Courfeyrac ordered. 

“I’ve changed my mind, I don’t trust you at all,” Enjolras said, a soft look in his eyes as he glanced in Courfeyrac’s direction. 

“Shut your stupid princely eyes,” Courfeyrac ordered once more, and Enjolras finally complied. 

“Oh!” Enjolras jumped as he felt hands on his shoulders. 

“Relax,” Courfeyrac breathed in his ear, and Enjolras shivered, but complied once more, as Courfeyrac began to rub the tension from his muscles. 

“There it is,” Courfeyrac murmured as Enjolras finally started to relax, eyes fluttering closed again. They didn’t speak, not for several long minutes. Enjolras finally fell asleep, the last of his tension seeping away, and Courfeyrac stopped, just watching for a moment. He seemed younger, somehow, less world-weary, when he was asleep. “C’mon, sleepyhead,” he murmured, easing him awake again. “Up to bed with you, now.” He helped Enjolras, still half-asleep, to his feet, and up the stairs, and into his bed. He tucked him in, and laid just the slightest of kisses on his forehead. Enjolras wasn’t awake enough to remember it - in fact, he was snoring nearly as soon as his head hit the pillows, and Courfeyrac smiled sadly before leaving the room. 

“Courfeyrac?” Enjolras called after him before he could close the door, still half-asleep. “Mmm… if I don’t see you, early in the morning.. Thank you for bringing me here.” 

“Of course,” Courfeyrac said softly. “Sleep well, Julien.” 

He returned to his own room, and let himself cry for precisely five minutes, before going to sleep himself. 

  
  



	3. December 22

In the morning, Courfeyrac put on his most garish Christmas sweater, hoping it would cheer him up. He made his way slowly down the stairs, and to his surprise, none other than Enjolras was sitting there, when he should have been long gone. “What are you still doing here? Isn’t your flight in, like.. Half an hour?” he asked. 

“Well, it was supposed to be.” He had his head in one hand. “However, it would seem trees were knocked down all over Connecticut last night by the wind - and most notably, one fell right in front of the Kentsbury Bridge. Who has only one way in and out of town, anyway?” he asked, torn between frustration and guilty relief. 

“It’s part of Kentsbury’s charm, I guess,” Courfeyrac shrugged. He wasn’t sure what he should feel - he supposed he should feel bad that Enjolras was still trapped here, but part of him was glad, too, to have more time. 

“I feel like the universe is trying to tell me something.” Enjolras stood, and looked at Courfeyrac once more, like he was a puzzle to be solved. Courfeyrac didn’t know how to feel about that, either. 

“Mhm,” he said, “It’s telling you it’s winter.” 

“Unfortunately, it means I’m missing another day of preparation for the vote, and the start of Christmas events in Galwick.” 

“Oh? What did you have planned?” Courfeyrac asked, curious. 

“Breakfast with parliament, lunch with the ambassadors, and dinner with the heads of the Media.” 

“Sounds… fun.’ Courfeyrac made a face. 

“It’s not, particularly,” Enjolras admitted. “If it weren’t for the vote, I think I’d be quite relieved to miss it.” 

“Well, we have a fun day of gingerbread house making planned for you instead,” Courfeyrac announced. “For charity. And before that, I’m heading to the attic, to look for decorations for a formal ball. I don't’ suppose you’d care to join me, bringing stuff down from the attic?” He expected Enjolras to protest, to say he was too busy. 

“I draw the line at manual labour,” Enjolras shook his head. 

“...Right.” Courfeyrac blinked, and headed for the stairs. He didn’t know what he’d been thinking.

“I’m kidding,” Enjolras called after him, and jogged to catch up. “Lead the way.” 

Courfeyrac whirled around to look at him, and grinned, pleased. “By all means.” 

  
  


The attic was full of knick knacks and baubles and all sorts of things, with no apparent organization system. “Well… you definitely have stuff. Now we just have to figure out if we can actually use it,” Enjolras observed, wide-eyed. 

“The high tables can go around the outside of the ballroom,” Courfeyrac suggested, looking around. “With.. christmas lights inside these vases,” he held one out, “And some greenery around it. And a wreath in every window,” he held one up from a corner. 

“You’re good at this,” Enjolras observed, gathering up the named items, and setting them aside. 

“I like parties, and decorating,” Courfeyrac shrugged. “I’m a teacher, second graders,” he added. “The classroom decorations aren’t formal like this, but I took some design classes in school, and I’m used to pulling together random things to decorate.” 

Enjolras nodded. He grabbed a basket of fake greenery. “You could string these from the chandeliers?” he suggested, wanting to contribute. 

“Excellent.” Courfeyrac clapped his hands, and it caused some dust to fall. They both coughed for a moment. “You know, if the whole prince thing doesn't pan out, you could have a future in party planning.”

“Mm,” Enjolras frowned. “Well, perhaps that’s something I’m better suited to after all.” 

“Don’t be silly, your vote is gonna go great,” Courfeyrac assured him. “Hey, you want me to help look over your speech?” he offered. 

“Well…” Enjolras paused. 

“Ah,” Courfeyrac nodded knowingly. “There is no speech yet, is there?”

“Do you know what you need?” Enjolras changed the subject, and leaned on a shelf to look through it at Courfeyrac. Courfeyrac leaned on the opposite side of it, meeting his gaze. The speech would come - he was good at that bit. It was just the pressure to be perfect that was catching him up, but it would get done. “More wreaths and ribbons.” 

“I’ll head into town,” Courfeyrac let him get away with it, just this once. 

“May I join you?”

“Dunno, it’s pretty cold out there. Not sure you should chance it.” Courfeyrac thought of their last venture outdoors, and Enjolras’ subsequent footwear malfunction. 

Enjolras considered that. “Give me five minutes,” he said, his tone a challenge, and Courfeyrac raised an eyebrow, but nodded. 

  
  


He was waiting outside in a colourful coat, pacing back and forth, when Enjolras reappeared. This time, he was in jeans - oh shock and wonder - and a sweater, and a coat. And, most importantly, actual boots. 

“Uh… how?” How did he get those clothes, sure, but also - how could he possibly be hotter in normal clothes than in a suit? How did that happen? Courfeyrac was shocked, honestly. 

“Turns out Combeferre has the same overpacking gene as my mother,” Enjolras confided. 

“Why didn’t he offer clothes to you before?” Courfeyrac asked, “If they fit you?”

“He.. did,” Enjolras admitted, a bit sheepish. “I .. have been known to be stubborn.” 

“And now?” Courfeyrac asked, wondering what had changed. He remembered wondering, the day before, if Enjolras was unused to being told no, or if he was just stubborn, and he noted to himself that it appeared to be the case that Enjolras was just stubborn after all.

“I’ve decided I’d like to keep all my toes,” Enjolras did up the buttons on his jacket, and Courfeyrac snorted, nodding. 

They started walking, and.. Well, it was nice. It felt normal, walking to the store with Enjolras in the snow. “Hey, throw a snowball at me,” Courfeyrac challenged, brandishing a large branch which had fallen the night before. 

“What?”

“C’mon, throw a snowball!”

“I don’t usually throw.. Snowballs,” Enjolras over-enunciated the word. Courfeyrac rolled his eyes, and grabbed a fistful of snow, throwing it at Enjolras. 

“Don’t be the fun police,” he ordered. 

“Oh, is that how it is?” Enjolras’ eyes narrowed, and he smiled, finally gathering up some snow himself. He threw it, and Courfeyrac whacked it with his stick, making it explode everywhere. 

“It’s satisfying,” he laughed. “C’mon, try it.” He handed Enjolras the stick, and made another snowball himself. “Just - swing.” 

Courfeyrac threw the snowball, but Enjolras was too slow, and the snowball hit him in the chest, trickling down his coat. “Let me try again,” he insisted, and Courfeyrac complied. This time, Enjolras got it, and he laughed in delight. “Oh, that  _ is _ satisfying!” 

A gleam came in Courfeyrac’s eye, and he sneakily made a new snowball. It struck Enjolras in the back, between his shoulders. “Gotcha.” 

“Oh, it’s war,” Enjolras warned, and he made a snowball of his own. Before long, half the town was in on a massive snowball fight, Courfeyrac and Enjolras leading opposite sides. Enjolras had history and war strategy on his side; Courfeyrac, experience with the snow. It was eventually declared a draw, and they continued on their way, arm in arm, and dripping wet, to the shops. 

In the shops, they gathered all the supplies they could carry; wreaths, ribbons, ornaments. Courfeyrac caught Enjolras looking wistfully looking at a ceramic ornament of the Kentsbury Inn, and he sneakily bought it, along with everything else, when Enjolras wasn’t looking. 

Back at the inn (and in dry clothes), they stood side by side in the doorway to the ballroom. It stood empty, for now, undecorated, but they could both just imagine how it would look when it was finished. They spent all afternoon decorating; the wreaths had to go in the windows, the tables had to be dragged down from the attic and dusted, before being arranged at the edges of the room and being decorated with centrepieces and tablecloths. Lights and garlands were strung across the ceiling, Enjolras holding the ladder while Courfeyrac nailed them in place. They took a moment to dance along with the decorative dancing Santa, which they had placed as if a bartender, laughing the whole time, and it struck Courfeyrac how lucky he was to see Enjolras like this, relaxed and happy for once. 

The piano was rolled in and decorated, trees were chopped and set up and strung with baubles and lights, the chandelier was decorated in garlands and fake candles. It was beautiful when they finished, and before he could think too hard about it, Courfeyrac hugged Enjolras tight. “It’s stunning,” he announced. “Thank you so much for your help.” 

“It was.. My pleasure,” Enjolras said softly, a strange look in his eye. He looked around. “What will you do for music?”

“There’ll be a DJ,” Courfeyrac assured him, “We already had him lined up for the pyjama ball.” 

“Will he know the music, for a formal ball?” Enjolras asked, and Courfeyrac frowned. 

“I.. don’t know,” he admitted. “He’ll have prepared for a pyjama ball, anyway. Oh, no, I didn’t even think about that…”   
“He can still play for the youth pyjama ball,” Enjolras suggested. 

“But what about this one?” Courfeyrac frowned. It was such late notice to get anyone new. 

“Well, you should really have a live orchestra - or at least a string quartet, for an event like this,” Enjolras suggested. 

“I guess, but - who could be prepared in time? There’s just three days,” Courfeyrac pointed out. 

“A conundrum,” Enjolras agreed, frowning slightly. 

“I’ll ask R,” Courfeyrac decided. “If anyone can figure this out, it’s him.”

  
  


A single phone call later, Courfeyrac was relieved to learn that Grantaire had thought of this very problem the night before, and had been making some calls. He had managed to find a string quartet in a neighbouring town, whose event had been cancelled due to the weather, and they were glad to find another way to make that paycheck.   
“This, R, is why you’re the best party planner alive,” Courfeyrac informed him gleefully. “You’re a miracle worker, a life saver, the best of the best.” 

“Yeah, yeah, save it for Enjolras,” Grantaire teased. “You should get him to teach you to dance.” 

“Shush,” Courfeyrac muttered, blushing. “I’ve told you, we’re not -” He huffed, because he wasn’t even sure if that was true anymore. “Just shush.” 

  
  


Of course, Grantaire was right, and Courfeyrac was weak, and so he found himself mentioning, “You know, I don’t even know how to waltz, and I’m told that’s fairly simple.” 

“Well, that won’t do, this is a formal ball,” Enjolras agreed. He held out a hand, and pressed a button on his phone. A christmas waltz began to play, and Courfeyrac had the undeniable feeling that he must be in a disney movie, or living a hallmark show, because this - this sort of thing didn’t just happen, but there was Enjolras, one hand behind his back, the other extended to Courfeyrac, a clear invitation to dance, soft music playing in the background, and Courfeyrac knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he was royally fucked (though not literally. He sort of wished it was literally). 

He swallowed, and met those beautiful eyes, and took Enjolras’ hand. It felt like more than what it was, somehow. Like he was accepting more than a dance. Enjolras placed Courfeyrac’s hand on his own shoulder, and placed his hand on Courfeyrac’s waist. With his other hand, he took Courfeyrac’s own, slow and gentle. Their fingers fit together perfectly as they came together, and Courfeyrac’s heart beat a waltz of its own in his chest. There were only inches between them as Enjolras led Courfeyrac through the steps, one foot and then another, slow circles around the ballroom. Their faces were so close Courfeyrac could almost feel Enjolras’ breath, and he wondered if Enjolras could feel his heartbeat, if he could feel the tension. He must, because he was smiling that quiet smile of his. 

For a moment, they were the only two people in the world, dancing slow circles around the room. It came to a crashing end when Ed burst into the room. 

“I knew you’d be in here,” he announced, oblivious as the two jumped apart, and the music came to a stop. “Oh.” He seemed to finally notice, but it was too late. 

“I should get back to work,” Enjolras mumbled, heading for the door like there were seven armies on his heels. 

“I should - decorate. Um.” Courfeyrac shook himself, and ignored the pointed look his father gave him. “Don’t,” he warned, waving a miniature plastic tree at him. “Don't say a word.” 

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Ed promised, and settled in to help decorate. “It’s beautiful in here.” There wasn’t much left to be done, honestly. 

“I just hope people like it,” Courfeyrac agreed. 

“As long as you like it, that’s what matters,” Ed insisted. 

“I’m not doing this for me!” 

“Well, maybe you should be,” Ed waved a candle at him. “You don’t do anything for yourself. You’re allowed to want things, too.” 

The look on his face made Courfeyrac think maybe Ed didn’t just mean the ball. “Are we still talking about all this?” he asked, gesturing at the ballroom. 

“I think you know exactly what I’m talking about,” Ed countered, confirming Courfeyrac’s suspicions. Courfeyrac just sighed. 

“You know it’s not that simple, dad -” 

“Come here, I’ve got something for you,” he interrupted. He picked up the garment bag he had come in with. “Some of my old outfits, from Christmas Balls I attended with your mother,” he handed it over to Courfeyrac. “I figured you hadn’t taken the time to get something ready for yourself. 

It had been an emotional afternoon, between his moment with Enjolras, and now this. Courfeyrac found himself near tears. “I - thanks, dad.” He hugged Ed tight. “Seriously, this is - it means a lot.” 

“Aw, they’re probably all out of fashion,” Ed waved it off, but he gripped his son just as tightly. 

“I’ll make it work, and be the most stylish one in the room,” Courfeyrac promised. “I love you.” 

“I love you too, kiddo.” Ed ruffled Courfeyrac’s hair. “Now, go get ready for the gingerbread house competition. Starts in half an hour.” 

“Oh shit!” Courfeyrac leapt into action, and out the door. “I lost track of time!”

  
  


The kitchen was full of tables, now, decked out in plastic tablecloths. Courfeyrac had changed into a christmassy apron, and was going from table to table offering extra pieces for people’s houses, and bowls of candy decorations. People from town would pay a small fee to participate, and it all went to the local food bank. Courfeyrac loved seeing what people came up with - these weren’t kits, where you followed prescribed instructions, after all. There were walls and roof pieces of all shapes and sizes, and you could make anything you wanted. Most of them came out looking like disasters, of course, as gingerbread houses are wont to do, but it was fun nonetheless. In his head, he ran a commentary track like he was pretending to be a judge on Nailed It!, and it meant he kept breaking into random giggles as he made his way around the room. 

Diane, having done all of the baking the day before, had been convinced to participate by Gabriella. Ed was supposed to be helping Courfeyrac hand out pieces, but he stopped by their table quite often to offer tips, and to steal candy from their table, much to the delight of Gabriella and Diane, who kept reprimanding him for it, saying that he was carrying much bigger bowls of candy in his own arms, after all. 

  
  


Grantaire had kicked off the event earlier in the evening by announcing that this year they had raised over $500 for the soup kitchen, and even he was now carefully building a delicate but intricate house with Combeferre. “Finally, those years of art school paying off,” he laughed, and Combeferre looked intrigued. 

“You’re an artist?” he asked. 

“Eh.” Grantaire wiggled a hand back and forth. There was frosting on one of his fingertips. “I went to art school, for a little bit. Dropped out,” he admitted, as if it didn’t mean much to him, but he didn’t meet Combeferre’s eyes, either. 

He needn’t have feared judgement; Combeferre just nodded compassionately. “School isn’t for everyone,” he allowed. “It seems you’ve found something you enjoy, and are good at, here.” 

“What, building gingerbread houses?” Grantaire asked with a quirk of his lips. 

“This whole thing,” Combeferre corrected patiently. “The Kentsbury Christmas, it’s been lovely, truly. You did a marvellous job. And you seem like you’re enjoying yourself - when you’re not pulling your hair out over the stress, anyway. And you’ve held it together remarkably, given all the weather issues we’ve been having.” 

“Oh.” Grantaire blushed at the sincerity of the compliments. “Well.. I guess. Yeah. Thanks. It hasn’t been a complete disaster after all, has it? Things keep just.. Falling into place.” 

“By your design,” Combeferre nudged him. “Don’t sell yourself short, Grantaire.” 

“I guess.” He looked pained, but Combeferre let it go. 

  
  


Enjolras, meanwhile, was struggling. His house had fallen down three separate times already, there was frosting everywhere, and Courfeyrac thought he spied an m&m stuck in his hair. He did his best to suppress a laugh as he walked over. “I… don't know what I expected,” he admitted, looking at the house as it collapsed once more. “Another tradition you’ve never done before, I guess?”

Enjolras looked put out. “Don’t laugh at me,” he muttered. 

“I’m not, I’m not,” Courfeyrac assured him, fighting back a laugh at the petulant look on Enjolras’ face. “Look, it’s a tricky thing if you’ve never done it before.” 

“Mother seems to be doing just fine,” he pointed out, looking at her house, which was coming together into a lovely recreation of the Kentsbury Inn. 

“Ah, but she has Diane and my father both helping her,” Courfeyrac pointed out. 

“Yes, I noticed that - why does she get help, and I don’t, hm?” Enjolras asked, starting to cheer up. 

“You’re right, it’s not fair at all,” Courfeyrac nodded. “I suppose I’ll just have to rectify that, hm?” He looked around to make sure everyone seemed like they were doing alright, and then set his trays aside and sat down with Enjolras. “Right, your first problem is you’re not cementing your base to your plate properly…” He placed some generous globs of icing on the plate, and set the base pieces back up, holding them firm. “You need to hold them steady until the icing dries a bit…” He motioned with his head for Enjolras to take them from him, and Enjolras did. 

“Right. And then?” Enjolras had a determined set to his face, now, like he was certain to get it right now. 

Courfeyrac couldn’t stay there for long, of course, called away to distribute pieces and toppings again, but now he returned to Enjolras’ table each time, guiding him along the next step. The end result wasn’t exactly beautiful, but it was a perfectly respectable little cottage, with a marshmallow snowman out front. “Hey, you’ve done it!” Courfeyrac beamed at him. 

“Well, I’ve hardly done it by myself, now, have I?” Enjolras protested, but he looked happy with the result. “Thank you for your help, Courfeyrac. Truly, I couldn’t have done it without you.” 

“Oh, I don’t know, I think you’d have managed it alright, eventually.” Courfeyrac reached out and ruffled Enjolras’ hair. Enjolras looked shocked, as if perhaps no one had done that before except his mother. Which - well. Gabriella seemed like the hair-ruffling type, but it made sense no one else would dare. 

“Well done, your highness.” The title was said in a whisper, so no one else would hear. 

“Why thank you.” On impulse, Enjolras took Courfeyrac’s hand and kissed the back of it. He blushed when he dropped it again. “Um. You had - icing.” 

“Oh.” Courfeyrac was blushing too. “Well, thank you.” 

“Yes. Um. Well - I had better -” 

“Yes, I guess you’ve got lots to do-”

“Yes, quite.” Enjolras stood up, and brushed himself off. “But - yes. Thank you, Courfeyrac.” 

“Anytime.” Courfeyrac watched Enjolras go with a lost little smile. 

  
  
  


Dinner was served at six, as usual. Enjolras made a brief appearance for it, but had to disappear into his room to make phone calls again. After dinner, Diane and Gabriella vanished into the kitchen, leaving Ed and Courfeyrac to clean up. 

In the kitchen, Diane and Gabriella began gathering ingredients. “Thank you, Diane, for agreeing to help me with this,” Gabriella said, pulling down the icing sugar from a shelf. 

“Oh, of course, I’d do anything - I mean, I’m happy to help,” Diane blushed, watching Gabriella. 

“Thank you, my dear.” She smiled brightly at Diane, and checked the list she had made. “I do think this is everything.”

They were going to make the famous Galwickian yule cake, which Enjolras had insisted so firmly was nothing like the Christmas Cruller donut Courfeyrac had offered him several days ago, now. 

The pair of them got to work, Diane showing Gabriella how to chop up the butter she had frozen the night before, how to work the dough so it would be flaky between the layers. They made the custard, next, and if they got a little distracted while it boiled on the stovetop, well, perhaps they could be forgiven for that. 

It was with flushed cheeks that they stopped to cool the custard and bake the pastry. It was quite lucky that the pastry didn’t burn while they were passing the time giggling like school girls. Gabriella, it turned out, was quite the flirt, and Diane was so easily flustered. Gabriella hadn’t felt this way in ages, not since her husband had passed. 

With the pastry baked, and the custard cooled, all that was left was to fill and frost the pastries. 

“You’ve got a bit..” Diane furrowed her brow, and stepped up close to wipe a bit of icing sugar from Gabriella’s cheek with her thumb. 

“Thank you, my dear,” she murmured back, an arm around Diane’s waist catching her before she could back away. The following kiss was slow, and sweet. Not their first, but every kiss felt like it could be. It was magical, how nicely Diane fit in her arms. 

“Oh..” Diane smiled when they pulled apart, and plucked up the nerve to steal another kiss of her own. “Ed is waiting..” 

“I do suppose he is..” Gabriella murmured back. “And these pastries ought to be shared.” 

The pair of them walked out of the kitchen together with the dessert on a covered plate. “Dessert is served,” Gabriella announced. Ed was sitting in the armchair, with Courfeyrac and Enjolras, who had returned only moments ago, in the love seat. Grantaire and Combeferre had remained, too, both seated on the carpet in front of the fireplace, murmuring to each other. 

Everyone looked up when the pastry was revealed, and Enjolras’ jaw dropped. “Is that-” 

“It is,” Gabriella looked so pleased with herself. She hadn’t baked much since becoming queen. 

“The Galwickian yule cake,” Enjolras stood to join his mother, and looked back at Courfeyrac. “You’ll have to try it. You’ll see it’s  _ nothing _ like your Christmas cruller.” 

He picked one up, and carried it over to Courfeyrac. “You’ll recall, it was your mother who said they were similar,” Courfeyrac reminded him, but Enjolras just held it out insistently. Courfeyrac took a big bite, letting Enjolras feed him. He suspected that wasn’t what Enjolras had intended, based on his blush, but he took no small joy in making Enjolras blush anyway. 

“ _ Mm, _ ” Courfeyrac made a sound as he bit into it. Enjolras’ blush grew more pronounced. “But fine, okay,” Courfeyrac allowed as he swallowed, “I’ll give you that, this is delicious. Holy shit.” 

“We started last night, and just finished them,” Gabriella told them, amused. “I emailed the royal chef for a recipe, and Diane was kind enough to help me. I thought - you’ve all been so kind, to share your traditions with us, I wanted a chance to return the favour, before..” she trailed off almost imperceptibly before continuing, “Before we have to leave.” 

“I.. almost forgot you were leaving.” This day had been so magical, Courfeyrac had been distracted. He’d lost sight of why he’d needed to be careful in the first place. He noticed Combeferre and Grantaire weren’t looking at each other, either. 

“It’s Christmas eve so soon,” Gabriella looked regretful. “We really do need to be getting back home.” 

Enjolras looked like he’d bitten into something sour. Today had been a blissful day of distraction and procrastination, and the reminder that he was slacking off of his duties was an unwelcome but necessary one. 

Gabriella wouldn’t let the mood be low for long, though. “Oh, go on, we all still have this one more night, don’t we? Have a pastry.” 

“I’ll make cocoa,” Combeferre volunteered, and Grantaire got up to join him in the kitchen. 

Parting still loomed over them like a stormcloud. 

  
  



	4. December 23

The sun had just come up, and Enjolras bounded down the stairs, no coat, not even a suit - a sweater vest and jeans, borrowed again from Combeferre. He didn’t carry a suitcase, either. “Good morning, Ed, my good man,” he greeted Ed Courfeyrac far more cheerfully than might have been expected. “How are the roads out there?”

“Well, the trees have been cleared, and the snow is plowed, but there’s quite a lot of black ice out there,” Ed told him gravely. 

“Ooh, well that sounds quite dangerous.” 

“It can be, yes.” 

“Yes,” Enjolras murmured back. 

Courfeyrac came bounding down the stairs next. “Did you hear? Black ice. They say the roads are like skating rinks,” he announced. 

“Far too dangerous to risk. We can’t put the queen of Galwick in that kind of jeopardy,” Enjolras shook his head seriously. 

“Not to mention the crown prince,” Courfeyrac agreed, and Ed nodded. 

Combeferre was the next down the stairs, perhaps the fastest yet. “Did you hear?”

“Black ice,” the other three replied in unison. 

The queen was hot on Combeferre’s tails, and she nearly stumbled into him in her haste. “We certainly can’t put the last of the royal family at risk - we’ll have to stay another day.” 

They were all grinning far too widely. 

  
  


The Christmas eve deadline still loomed, though, and thus Enjolras found himself in the library once more, working on his speech. He had a draft, but it still didn’t seem quite right. Something was missing. He’d been gone so long, this speech would be his only chance to convince people to vote in favour of his bill. The fire was crackling, and in the same room, Grantaire and Courfeyrac were putting together the favours for the ball. 

“You know,” Grantaire was saying, “I still have the fuzzy socks from my first pyjama ball.”

“Oh!” Courfeyrac laughed, delighted by that. They both dissolved into laughter. “It seems weird, giving these out now that it’s a formal ball,” he admitted. 

“After a night of dancing in fancy shoes, I think comfortable socks are the best gift we can give,” Grantaire grinned at him. 

“I guess you’re right.” 

Combeferre and Gabriella walked through the room, heads bowed in conversation. For just a moment, Combeferre and Grantaire met eyes, and they both smiled, Grantaire looking down with a blush. 

“You two really hit it off. You’re not.. Scared?” Courfeyrac dated plenty, is the thing. He had one night stands, and kissed people at parties, and went on dates, but he didn’t really tend to do serious relationships. He loved easily, but his heart broke just as easily, and it scared him, if he was forced to admit it. 

“Oh, terrified,” Grantaire admitted. “But - what we have, it’s not nothing, you know? We don’t know what’s going to happen, but - we talked for a long time, last night. We both barely slept, honestly.” 

Courfeyrac waggled his eyebrows suggestively, and Grantaire laughed and hit him with a pair of socks. “Shut up, we just talked. And - he’s serious about this. And so am I. Maybe it’s crazy, it’s only been a few days, but..” He shrugged, blushing harder, but unable to hide a wide smile. “I’m crazy about him. And he says he’s crazy about me. And we want to try it, you know? We wouldn’t be the first people to be in a long-distance relationship.” 

Courfeyrac smiled a little at that. “I love love,” he said softly. “I hope it works. I really do.” 

“You know, you and Enjolras could make it work, too, you know,” Grantaire said knowingly. “And don’t tell me ‘it’s not like that,’ if I hear you say that one more time -” He held his socks up threateningly, as if to hit Courfeyrac with them again.

“Ugh, okay, maybe it’s a little like that,” Courfeyrac admitted, face hidden in his hands. “But - he’s a  _ prince _ , Grantaire. It’s not - he can’t - Ugh.” 

“Tell him how you feel,” Grantaire pushed. “You spend all this time trying to make everyone around you happy - you deserve to be happy too.” 

“But what if he doesn’t -” 

“If you finish that sentence,” Grantaire warned, “I am going to burn every last one of your awful Christmas sweaters. He obviously likes you, Courfeyrac, don’t be stupid.” 

Courfeyrac stuck his tongue out at Grantaire, but it was clear he was thinking about it. 

  
  
  


“Good evening, good evening, gather round,” Grantaire was standing on a podium, with a candle in his hand. There was a crowd of townsfolk milling about, and the stars shone bright in a clear sky. 

“Thank you all for coming! It’s my honour to kick off the Kentsbury Candlelight Singalong. All the shops on Main are open late tonight, there’s free cocoa and cider courtesy of the Stoneworks Bakery and Coffeehouse - last minute shoppers, I know you’re out there.” Everyone laughed. “All we need now, is a little more light.” Grantaire put the microphone away, and lit his little white candle. He held it out, and Combeferre was the one to reach him, and have his own candle lit. He passed it on to Gabriella, and they both passed it on to two more, and so on, until slowly the park was lit by two hundred candles, each held by a townsperson. 

Enjolras and Courfeyrac were at the back of the crowd, and there was a tender look between them as Courfeyrac lit Enjolras’ candle. It was a magical moment, and it must have swept Courfeyrac’s good sense away, because he murmured, “Enjolras, there’s something I want to tell you..” 

“I have something too,” Enjolras replied softly. “You first-” 

They were interrupted by Grantaire beginning the singalong part of the event, though. A loud chorus of ‘Joy to the World’ began, and both Enjolras and Courfeyrac looked at each other for a long moment, before reluctantly joining the crowd in the singalong. The moment had passed, for now, but they were both smiling, and when Enjolras reached out, Courfeyrac was right there to hold his hand. 

Combeferre reached out a hand, and Grantaire took it to step off the stage as the singing continued. Combeferre wrapped his arms around Grantaire’s waist, and they stood there together, holding each other in the night. 

Ed, Diane, and Gabriella were all holding hands together, trying to find a three-part harmony, and giggling helplessly when they just ended up hopelessly out of tune. 

The singing carried on for much of the night. They sang, and walked, and had cocoa on the street, and bought some little trinkets from the shops. When they all trundled through the front door of the inn together, everyone was in high spirits, talking and laughing together. Courfeyrac pulled Enjolras to the side. “You wanna see how the ballroom looks, all lit up?” he suggested softly. 

“Absolutely,” Enjolras agreed, a small smile gracing his lips. 

They shrugged off their coats, and Courfeyrac led the way to the ballroom. All lit up, it was incredible. 

“I know you can’t be at the ball,” Courfeyrac started. 

“No.. but I’m here now,” Enjolras suggested. “And - well, we never did finish our dance, earlier.” He held out a hand, knowing that this time.. Well, this time, if they did this, it had to mean something. Right? 

Courfeyrac bit his lip. “Enjolras..” he murmured. 

“You’ve been telling me to speak from the heart,” Enjolras said. He looked nervous, but determined. “Won’t you do the same?” 

“I-” Enjolras’ phone started to ring, cutting Courfeyrac off. “You should check that.” He looked away. 

“Ignore it,” Enjolras said firmly. “Courfeyrac. Alex.” He reached out again. 

“It could be someone important,” Courfeyrac shook his head. 

“ _ You’re _ someone important,” Enjolras insisted. 

“Still, you-” 

“Fine.” Enjolras sighed, and glanced at his phone screen. His face fell. 

“Take it,” Courfeyrac waved at him. “Just - take it.” 

“It’s the palace, I-” 

“Go.” 

“It’ll only be a moment. Please don’t go anywhere,” Enjolras pleaded, before he turned away and answered his phone. 

Courfeyrac thought he might cry. It wasn’t fair - he didn’t blame Enjolras, how could he? He was a prince; this was what his life would be like. Courfeyrac didn’t need Enjolras’ constant attention, but it was hard to imagine what their life could possibly look like. 

Courfeyrac looked around the perfectly decorated ballroom. The one they had decorated together. Enjolras’ suggestion with the greenery on the chandelier really pulled it all together. 

He was distracted when Enjolras finished his call and turned back to him. “Alex,” he murmured. 

“Is everything okay?” he asked, shaking himself back to reality. 

“Not really.” Enjolras’ voice shook, but he fought to steady himself. “This has gone viral in Galwick.” 

He showed Courfeyrac a news article from Galwick, headed by a photo of Enjolras and Courfeyrac together, laughing. “They say I’ve chosen a Christmas in the US over my duties at home. That I don’t care about this bill, or my people.” 

“But it’s not your fault,” Courfeyrac protested. “The weather -” 

“I could have gone home this morning,” Enjolras snapped. “I just.. Didn’t want to. I was selfish.” 

“They’ll see that they’re wrong,” Courfeyrac insisted. “Enjolras. Julien, you have put so much into this bill, and I know you love your people. You’ll get home, and you’ll show them. You’ll be fine.” 

Enjolras quirked a half-smile, but he couldn’t quite make it all the way. “Because of you, perhaps.” There was nothing he could do about it tonight, and so he wanted to savour this last moment he had with Courfeyrac. “Now, where were we?” He held out his hand again, but Courfeyrac took half a step back. 

“I was just gonna say thank you, for all your help this week,” he said, steeling himself. 

“That’s not what you were going to say.” Enjolras looked at him with such a sad look in his eyes, and Courfeyrac knew his heart was breaking no matter what he did. 

“I’m so glad you and queen Gabriella enjoyed your time in Kentsbury.” Courfeyrac’s voice wavered a bit, but he continued. “I think it’s time for you to go home.” 

“I- I see.” Enjolras looked away, and Courfeyrac hated himself just a little. “Right. Then - thank you, for everything.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Goodbye, Courfeyrac.” 

He swept from the room, and Courfeyrac watched him go, before collapsing into a seat and letting himself sob. 

  
  



	5. December 24

The next morning, Gabriella, Enjolras and Combeferre all came down together, in their formal wear, carrying their suitcases. 

“We got a little snow last night,” Ed greeted them at the front desk, alone. 

“What?” Enjolras bounded for the door, but the roads were already cleared. 

“You can still get out okay,” Ed added. Enjolras tried not to look disappointed. 

“Where’s Courfeyrac?” Gabriella asked. 

“We already said goodbye last night,” Enjolras said, distant.

“Oh..” She fussed with his lapel. “Don't you think you should -” 

“Not particularly,” Enjolras cut her off, uncharacteristic for him. 

Gabriella looked sadly after him as he stepped away, all his walls firmly back up. He helped Combeferre carry their things out to the car which had come to take them to the airport, where Grantaire was also waiting. 

Courfeyrac, meanwhile, watched from his window on the second floor. He jumped when there was a knock on his door - he nearly dropped the ornament he had bought for Enjolras, and never had a chance to give him. 

When he opened it, Gabriella was on the other side. “Courfeyrac,” she said with a small smile. “I don’t know what happened with you and Julien last night, but I want you to know - you’ll always be welcome in Galwick, and I’ll always consider you family. No matter what.” She reached out to clasp his arm. Courfeyrac nodded, fighting a losing battle with his tears. 

“Thank you,” he managed to get out. 

“By the way,” she added. “If Diane finds something in my room, tell her it’s a gift from me. For the ball.” 

Courfeyrac nodded tearfully, and then thrust the ornament into her hands. “For Enjolras,” he said. “Don’t - don’t tell him it’s from me, though. Please.” 

She looked at him levelly. “...If you say so, dear.” She took the ornament, and tucked it carefully into her purse. 

Courfeyrac watched her go, and from his window, he watched everyone hug, and kiss, and see each other off. He watched Enjolras linger as they all piled into the car, and jumped out of the way as he looked up in the direction of his window, not wanting to be seen. Not wanting to see Enjolras upset, he wouldn’t admit to himself. He didn’t see the car leave, too distraught to watch them drive away. 

Downstairs, Grantaire was standing in front of the fireplace, an envelope in his hands. 

“Well, that was a bummer,” Grantaire said as Courfeyrac approached. 

“I’m sorry Combeferre had to leave before the ball,” Courfeyrac consoled him. 

“Well, we knew that would happen,” Grantaire shrugged. 

“You don't seem as upset as I thought you would,” Courfeyrac observed, and Grantaire’s frown turned to a smile. 

“Well… that’s because we already bought my flight to spend New Years in Galwick.” He waved the envelope in his hand. 

“Oh my god, for real?” Courfeyrac’s eyes widened. “Damn, you two really are serious.” 

“Well, yeah.” Grantaire shrugged. “We talked, like I said, and.. We want to see where this can go. Long distance isn’t easy, but.. Combeferre thinks we should try, at least, and I’m not willing to let go just yet.” 

Before Courfeyrac could respond, Diane came in, looking distraught. “Oh, the queen left an entire dress bag on her bed..” she fretted. “We have to find a way to get it to her.” 

“Actually..” Courfeyrac looked from the bag to Diane. “I think that’s for you. She said she left something for you. A gift.” 

Diane’s eyes widened, and she opened the bag, just a little, for only her and Courfeyrac to see. “Oh my goodness,” she breathed. “It’s -” 

“It suits you,” Courfeyrac said with a soft smile. “It’s perfect.” 

“Oh, do you think so? It’s so.. Grand.” She looked unsure. 

“Yeah, I think you’ll look stunning. Dad’ll love it,” Courfeyrac assured her, and she blushed at that.

“Oh, Alex, it’s been such a magical time. We haven’t even had a chance to talk about it-” 

“Diane,” Courfeyrac said seriously, “You’ve always been family, and I can’t wait for you and dad to make it official.” 

“Oh, Alex.” She wiped a tear from her face and hugged him, tight. “Thank you.” She paused, and looked at the garment again. “I guess I’d better go try this on.” 

“Damn right,” Courfeyrac agreed. “And then we need to accessorize.” There was no time to wallow. 

  
  
  


Approaching the palace again for the first time felt.. different, than Enjolras had expected. He hadn’t expected this bone-deep sadness. Stress, sure. Relief, of course, but - he felt he’d left his heart in Connecticut, somehow. So it was with a heavy step that Enjolras paused at the door. 

“That will be the first ornament we hang, next Christmas,” Gabriella gestured to the one she’d given him on the flight. “To remind ourselves of the wonderful time we’ve had, and the wonderful people we’ve met. I do think that detour was the best thing that happened to us all year.” 

“How can you say that?” Enjolras asked, despondent. “It made everything here at home harder.” 

“But you’re so much better,” she said softly. “Do you know I haven’t seen you smile so much since your father passed? You’ve finally let some of those walls down, relaxed.. Fallen in love.” Enjolras looked at her with a frown, but she didn’t let him interrupt. “I think that’s far more important.” 

“It can’t work,” Enjolras shook his head, fighting tears of his own. “None of that was real life. It was just a dream.” 

“Julien,” she said, shaking her head, “That was the most real you’ve ever been.” 

They shared a look, and she wiped a tear from his cheek, and then they walked arm in arm back into the palace. 

There was a mediastorm to take his mind off of Courfeyrac, of course, and the vote. Preparations had to happen quickly. He met with his team, who had been working hard in his absence - and despite the chaos, he thought that maybe, just once, this was actually under control. 

  
  


Enjolras felt odd, now, in his most formal dress. He looked every bit the prince, and somehow it was less comfortable now than the jeans he’d gotten used to wearing in Kentsbury. 

“How do you feel?” Gabriella stepped in. He would be going on in just a few minutes to make his speech. 

“I was reading father’s old writing,” he held out a handful of papers, “When he was preparing the bill. He wrote a speech just for this occasion. In case it ever got to the vote.” 

Gabriella read it over. “And you? What will you do?” 

“I think I’ll read my own,” Enjolras said after a moment. “I - will never be him. Why pretend? I need to be my own sort of man, and someday, my own sort of king. That starts with speaking from my heart, not his.” 

She smiled wide. “Oh, Julien.” She hugged him tight, rumpling both of their outfits. “I’m so proud of you.” 

“It’s all thanks to Courfeyrac, really,” he admitted. “I couldn’t have done this without him.” 

  
  


Setup for the ball was well underway. Extra kitchen staff were being directed by Diane, Courfeyrac was handling the string quartet as they arrived, and Ed was greeting the guests who had arrived early. 

Courfeyrac retreated, when that was done, to get dressed. In a garment bag were all the pieces he’d chosen for the ball. He stood in front of the mirror in a t-shirt and jeans for a moment, lost in thought. 

“There you are.” It was Ed, dressed in a tux, bow tie undone.

“You look great,” Courfeyrac did his best to smile. 

“Thanks, Alex. Don't suppose you could help me with the tie? You’ve always been so much better at that sort of thing…”

Courfeyrac caught a glimpse of sparkle from behind Ed, and said, “Why don't you let Diane help you?” 

Ed turned around slowly, and there stood Diane, a vision in a silver ball gown, shimmering every time she moved. 

“Oh,” Ed was breathless at the sight of her. “Oh, wow. Diane.” 

“You don’t think it’s too much?”

“You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” Ed said, as straightforward as ever. “Gabriella..?”

“She left it for me,” Diane nodded. They both looked sad for a moment, to be without her in this moment. “I promised her we’d make a video call from the dance.”

“Oh. Good,” Ed nodded, looking a little happier. “Diane, you’re a vision. Truly. I’m the luckiest man alive.” 

“You’re looking pretty handsome yourself,” she smiled back. “I - oh, I should go check on the caterers-” 

“It’s taken care of,” Ed insisted. “Tonight, you don't have to worry about a thing.” 

Diane fluttered helplessly for a moment, and then fixed Ed’s bowtie. 

“Shall we?” Ed asked when it was done, offering her his arm, and she took it with a smile. Courfeyrac watched them go with the softest look in his eye. He was glad they’d found each other. 

The ball was soon in full swing, the quartet playing Christmas tunes in the background while everyone sat and ate in their formal attire. In the next room, you could hear the screams and laughter of the children, and the sound of Elf playing in the background. Grantaire was a vision in a forest green suit, and Courfeyrac came down the stairs in an all white tux, tails and all. He’d even managed to find himself a pocket watch, and his hair was set in perfect curls. 

His breath caught as he came around the corner and spotted a tall blonde in a tailored suit. It was impossible, wasn’t it? There was no way. There was an important vote tonight. And yet, he hoped. He took a careful step toward the man - only for him to turn upon the calls of his three children. Not Enjolras - just the owner of the car dealership in town. Courfeyrac cursed himself for getting his hopes up - how stupid could he be? 

His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he pulled it out. It was recorded news footage of the vote - it must have happened earlier. He stepped outside, and clicked play. Enjolras was speaking. He was speaking well - from the heart, like Courfeyrac had told him. He was persuasive, and Courfeyrac watched as the votes came in - the first few against, and his heart dropped, and then the votes pulled even. He must have stared at his phone for twenty minutes, but the votes were counted, and Enjolras had won. The bill was passed. The camera passed over Enjolras, sharing a celebratory hug with his mother, and then with Combeferre. Courfeyrac smiled softly to himself. 

“Congrats,” he whispered, as if Enjolras could hear. And in that moment, he knew he’d made a mistake - that he should have been honest. And he knew he needed to tell Enjolras how he really felt. 

He ran back into the ballroom. “Grantaire,” he gripped his friend by the elbow. “I need to borrow your phone.” 

“O..kay? What’s going on?” Grantaire handed his phone over, and Courfeyrac scrolled through it until he found Combeferre’s number. 

“I’m telling Enjolras how I feel,” he stated. 

Grantaire whooped in celebration, and Courfeyrac pressed call. 

“Grantaire?” Is everything alright?” Combeferre picked up after a few rings. Courfeyrac could hear noise in the background, and assumed they were still in court. 

“It’s Courfeyrac. Can you put Enjolras on?” he asked. 

“That depends,” Combeferre said mildly. “Are you going to break his heart again?”

“I promise I’m not,” Courfeyrac said. “Please.” 

“...Fine.” There was some muffled noise, and he heard Combeferre say something to Enjolras, though he couldn’t make out what. 

“Courfeyrac?” Enjolras sounded as breathless as Courfeyrac felt. 

“Hey, Enjolras,” he greeted. “I - god, I was such an idiot. You were right, I was going to say something else to you, and I - was scared, and that’s no excuse. Enjolras, I know we’re different. I know you’re a prince, and I’m a schoolteacher, and you live an ocean away, and have responsibilities, but - I don’t care.”

“Courfeyrac,” Enjolras interrupted. “Before you continue, I just -” There was a pause. “One moment.” 

Courfeyrac frowned, puzzled, and didn’t look up right away when he heard the ballroom doors open, wondering what that had meant. Had Enjolras changed his mind? 

He heard a gasp from beside him, and an elbow to his ribs. “Courfeyrac,” Grantaire whispered, and Courfeyrac finally looked up. 

In the doorway stood Enjolras, in a suit once more, a little rumpled but looking all the better for it. Behind him, Combeferre and Gabriella waited. Courfeyrac shook his head. “How..?”

He started to cross the ballroom, towards Enjolras, and they entered as well. Gabriella went straight to Ed and Diane, and Combeferre to Grantaire. Courfeyrac and Enjolras met in the middle. 

“Congrats on your win,” Courfeyrac had no idea what to say. “How-?”

“I had the vote moved up to this morning, and we got right back on a flight when it was done,” Enjolras admitted, voice shaking. “I knew - I knew what you wanted to say, and didn’t, and I knew what I wanted to say, and I thought -” 

“I’m so glad you’re here,” Courfeyrac whispered, and he pulled Enjolras into a hug. “Your speech was great.”

“I spoke from the heart. Like you always said.” 

“Well, I am always right,” Courfeyrac sniffled a little. He wasn’t crying, he wasn’t. 

“Alexandre Courfeyrac,” Enjolras smiled at him and shook his head a little. “Would you do me the honour of attending the Kentsbury Ball with me?”

“You sap. Yes, I would love that,” Courfeyrac nodded with a watery smile. Across the room, Ed, Diane and Gabriella were already dancing, and so were Combeferre and Grantaire. The song changed to a waltz, and Enjolras held out a hand. 

Courfeyrac took it. 

They danced all night long, and were the last ones on the floor when the night was over. 

“Merry Christmas, Courfeyrac.”

“Merry Christmas, Enjolras.” 

  
  



End file.
